Bound by Blood
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: Sequel to Return to Prince Manor. Harry and his family are thrust into the dark and mysterious world of the vampires when an old enemy returns. Her target? Why, the Snapes of course! Secrets a thousand years in the making are brought to light and blood is the key to unlocking them. AU, Prince Manor verse!
1. Black Trillium

**Author's note:** This story is a direct sequel to _Return to Prince Manor_ and takes place only a few hours after where the epilogue ended and is written by Lady Julie Snape and Snapegirlkmf (Beta). We highly recommend you read _The Heir to Prince Manor _and _Return to Prince Manor_ before reading this.

**Bound by Blood**

Chapter 1: Black Trillium

_June 24th 1998:_

Harry carefully added the powder from the crushed unicorn horn into his potion and immediately stirred it seven times counter clockwise. The liquid remained brilliant violet for a moment before changing to a deep shade of turquoise that began to produce a silvery mist that hovered over the top of the cauldron. He glanced over at Katie, watching as she gracefully walked about his father's private lab, returning unused ingredients to their proper place on the shelves, washing her measuring cups, knives and stirrers and tidying up the place. She cleaned everything by hand; magic could adversely affect the complex potions currently resting in stasis along the back wall.

Katie wore the traditional periwinkle blue robes of an apprentice sorceress with the trim coloured black in order to recognize Severus Snape as her Master. Harry absolutely adored the colour on her because the shade matched her eyes perfectly. Her body remained slender and curvaceous, a perfect hourglass figure that the other ladies envied her for, because she continued to play Quidditch (despite having graduated from Hogwarts last year). Her robes tightened around her waist before they flared outward at her hips and fell just below her ankles.

He caught sight of her deliciously tanned legs and he allowed his eyes to follow the natural curve of her calves, passed her knees and lingered on her lower thighs just before her skirt covered her skin. He had noticed that, a part from his stepmother and Aunt Petunia, the women at Hogwarts wore long gowns that hid their legs and did not bare much flesh or cleavage (not that he wanted to see McGonagall's cleavage, thank you very much). His father explained to him that it had to do with the fact that the wizarding world continued to live with 16th century England ideals instead of modern day ones that treated women equal to men. He wondered if that meant that eventually Katie would hide her beautifully golden legs beneath a skirt; he hoped not.

At the moment his fingers itched to tuck that strand of loose golden brown hair that had fallen free from her braid back behind her ear. Feeling his eyes upon her, she turned toward him, offering him a wicked smile that caused the blood to surge through his veins and his heartbeat to speed up.

He watched her blue eyes darken with the passion he could see building inside of her like an inferno. He desperately wanted to take the time to explore every inch of her body. He wanted to feel the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. He wanted to make love with her. Not just love her. But he remembered his promise to both his father and to Katie; he would go no further than the gentle touches he gave her unless she was ready and willing.

"Easy, there, Romeo," she teased him with that wicked smirk of hers.

He offered her his most charming smile and bowed slightly at the waist. "As you wish, milady."

She laughed quietly.

"Stop it, Harry," she scolded him. "You're beginning to sound like Phil."

Lord Philip Anthony Snape, or Phil as he preferred to be called by close friends and family, was a very distant ancestor of Harry and his father. Born over a thousand years ago, the man was a charming and highly overprotective vampire that had spent almost an entire year guarding Harry, Draco and Severus from the evil that stalked them. Although generations separated them, Harry and Draco and Severus considered him to be an integral part of their family. He and his wife, Julie, were Toria's godparents. He was also friends with the Summer Queen herself, Titania.

"Uncle Phil _is_ a bit stiff," he agreed.

She huffed with amusement.

Philip being stiff was an understatement. The man was reserved to the point that people often thought him to be quite callous but that could not have been further from the truth. He was simply a very private person.

"Don't let him hear you say that," she warned him. "It may be true but it's not a very nice thing to say about your uncle."

"Perhaps not," he agreed distractedly. Using his wand, Harry pointed the tip at the flame burning merrily underneath his cauldron and lowered the temperature until the potion could sit on its own unattended for several hours. "He's coming tomorrow for our graduation ceremony. He says he has some big announcement that he thinks we'll like."

"Are you excited to see him again?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Returning his wand to the holster secured around his wrist, he started to clean up his workstation. "We only saw him a couple of months ago for the Quidditch game."

Katie wandered over to him and started to help him by gathering up any unused ingredients or left over materials that she could return to the shelves in his father's private stocks. He heard the soft scrape of glass jars as she rearranged a few items in order to fit everything in its proper place. With his worktable clear, Harry sprayed some disinfectant along the surface and wiped it down with a soft cloth.

"I don't know about you," she called, her voice slightly muffled from the back room, "but I could definitely use a shower."

"Shall I meet you in your quarters when I'm done?" he asked her.

"Why don't we spend the night at your parents' place?" she suggested as she walked out of his father's storage room and locked the door behind her. "Your father would never say anything but I think he misses the fact that you and Draco aren't spending as much time with him anymore."

"He does have Toria and Nesmay and Mum, you know," he pointed out. "He's hardly by himself anymore, Katie-did."

She shook her head but he caught the soft smile that curled her lips upward.

"It's not about the fact that he's alone, Harry," she chided him. "It's about him being able to spend time with you. You rarely see him except for class and the occasional weekend that he or Sarai ask you to babysit Toria."

He stared at her. She was right, now that he actually thought about it.

"It's not a bad thing," she said. "It's normal. You're taking steps to become independent. You're making your own decisions based on your own personal goals and desires. You're beginning to look out for yourself and no longer relying so heavily on your father or mother. That doesn't mean that you have to entirely cut yourself off from your family, you know. You can still be close with them. It just means that your parents are going to have to see you as an adult and not their little boy anymore."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"You think we should have dinner with my parents?" he asked her slowly.

"That sounds like a plan," she agreed enthusiastically. "I'll see you in an hour or so."

He followed her out, locking the door behind him to prevent curious little fingers from entering the lab unaccompanied, and she headed for her rooms on the upper levels of the castle while he simply strode across the hall and entered his father's chambers. Ordinarily, an apprentice's rooms were directly beside or across from their Master/Mistress's chambers but, with his father also being Head of Slytherin, his living quarters were located down in the dungeons close to their common room. Katie was in a unique position in that her chambers were located in the hall along with other members of staff.

He found his stepmother sitting upon one of the comfy black leather armchairs in front of the dormant fireplace, her legs curled over one armrest, one hand holding her book open while she sipped iced tea with the other. She glanced up when he entered and offered him a warm smile before returning to her book.

Toria, well-rested and refreshed from her afternoon nap, lay flat on her belly on the carpet, colouring a unicorn in the sketchbook that Julie had drawn for her. The little girl was painstakingly careful not to colour or scribble outside the lines. Once she finished colouring she could tap the image with her finger and the unicorn would hop off the page and prance around her, making life-like noises as it neighed and snorted, its mane and tail billowing. Only a few pages contained images of winged horses that would actually fly around her and they had to be the most beautiful sketches in the whole book.

"Hello sweetling," he crooned. "Did you have a good nap?"

She nodded enthusiastically, her dark curly hair bouncing upon her shoulders. He grinned, her bubbly personality contagious, and ruffled her hair which caused her to glare up at him adorably.

_:Hello Harry,:_ Smidgen greeted him warmly as she popped into existence and hovered a few inches in front of his face. He held out his hand to her and she lowered herself in to his palm gratefully. Her wings twitched, one of her delicate butterfly wings slightly bent from attacking the ferocious magical snake Nagini that nearly cost the shimmerling her life. She wrinkled her nose at him. _:Phaw, Harry, you reek.: _

"Katie and I were working on some advanced potions in Dad's lab," he explained. "I was just about to take a shower, actually."

The tiny feline leapt from the palm of his hand onto the back of the chair his stepmother sprawled on and climbed regally up the half-fae woman's arm to rest on her shoulder.

"Please do, Harry," Sarai murmured, her eyes never straying from her book, and the corners of her lips twitched, belying her amusement.

Huffing in mock-anger he grabbed a towel from the linen closet, a spare set of clean robes (_not_ his father's (although the two of them were very similar in height and build)), and marched into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He emerged thirty minutes later dry, clean and dressed in a fresh set of robes.

By this time his father had returned from his final class of the day and sat down on the sofa adjacent to the two leather armchairs, his legs crossed and his feet resting on the cushions. His head was tilted back and his eyes were closed but he appeared relaxed instead of angry or frustrated. Today was his final day of classes for the year because tomorrow he would be attending his sons' graduation ceremony as their father and _not _their professor. OWLs and NEWTs had finished a week ago along with the exams for the rest of the student body. Tomorrow would be an easy day.

"Glad the term's finally over, eh, Dad?" he teased.

His father opened one eye and then closed it again, choosing to ignore him, and this caused Harry to laugh.

"What's the matter old man?" he continued with his teasing. "Did the ickle firsties exhaust you?"

"You know," the man drawled his voice as sharp and succinct as ever, "you're still not too old for me to swat, Harry."

He blanched and this time it was his father's turn to laugh.

"That's just plain evil, Dad."

"Then don't torment your old man."

Harry had the childish desire to stick his tongue out at his father but knew better than to dare to try. He could tease his brother and Ron that way and they would reciprocate in kind but his father considered it extremely rude.

Sarai snorted from behind her book. "You are hardly old, beloved."

"I am hardly old?" he asked her. His black eyes opened to stare intently at the side of his wife's face, his gaze warming with an unquenchable desire that sizzled between them like scorching heat. "Tell that to your son. He's the one that thinks I'm old."

"Hey, hey, hey." Harry held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't think you're _that_ old."

His father raised an eyebrow at him. "But you still think I'm old."

"You are old."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry," his father growled. "I'm not _that_ old. Your uncle is far older than I will ever be."

He grinned. Phil would outlive them all.

There was a polite knock at the door and then Katie entered when his father called for her to enter. She, like Ron and Hermione, knew the password to access his private chambers but she never abused that privilege and always took the time to knock; she would never enter someone else's home without being invited inside. Ron tended to make himself at home whenever he knew that Harry planned to spend time visiting with his family on the weekends. Unless she knew that Draco would be around, Hermione rarely kept company with her professors. (It's not that she disliked Severus or Sarai as both adults were kind toward her; she was simply uncomfortable around them.)

"Hello Master Severus," Katie addressed her master formally even though he'd given her leave to use his first name in private. "Lady Sarai."

"Katie, how many times do I have to tell you that you can simply call me Sarai? The lady part is most definitely not necessary. We are not in court and you are no longer my student."

She ducked her head.

"I know I can," she said. "It just feels uncomfortable, if you know what I mean. The two of you have been my professors most of the time I've attended Hogwarts. It seems impolite to call you by your first names."

"Take your time, Katie," Sarai soothed. "If it makes you more comfortable to call me Lady Sarai then do so until you're comfortable enough with the idea of simply calling me Sarai."

Harry wrapped an arm around Katie's waist and squeezed her side reassuringly when she melted against him.

_By the Black Lake:_

"I'm going to miss this place," Draco murmured.

He leaned with his back against an ancient oak tree, his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms wrapped around Hermione's waist as she lay beside him, her head resting on his chest. He watched the sunlight dancing on the still surface of the lake, the water clear enough that he could see tiny fish swimming underneath the lily pads and around the seaweed that swayed gently back and forth in the current. He could hear a frog croaking – or was it a toad? – and listened to the gentle thrum of dragonflies as they darted back and forth along the bank in search of their prey. The grass tickled his bare feet but it was nothing compared to the softness of Hermione's hair that caressed his chin.

She drew back from him just enough to tilt her head slightly upwards and meet his silver eyes with her own caramel-coloured ones. He lifted a hand to cup the side of her cheek, his thumb stroking along her jaw. How he loved her eyes. He found her eyes to be her most beautiful feature. Yes, her eyes were the colour of warm caramel but there were flecks of pure gold and darker brown inside her irises that shifted shades depending on her emotions. Now, that warm caramel dominated with dark brown flecks outshining the gold.

"What makes you say something like that?" she asked him.

"The fact that I will rarely be returning to Hogwarts after tomorrow," he said. "As Ollivander's apprentice, I'll be spending most of my time at his wand shop or out in the field gathering cores and the wood required for making them. I want to return to Malfoy Manor and restore it. I want to purge the darkness from its halls. That's going to take longer than a week, Mione, and the only time I'll have is when I'm not working."

She lowered her head and pressed her mouth against his. The kiss was a gentle caress, filled with her love and compassion and understanding; it was a silent promise that she would forever stand by his side.

"That's not such a bad thing, you know," she whispered when she pulled away from him just enough to lower her head to his chest once more. "It's sad, knowing that this part of our adventure is over but, my mighty master Dragon, there are other adventures to be had. Your job will take you all over the world. You'll get to see things that I never will because I'll be here."

"That's right," Draco growled, his voice deepening slightly. "You'll be here. Without me."

Hermione couldn't help the warmth that spread through her body. "Jealous?" she teased.

"Never." He lifted her left hand and tilted her fingers until the sunlight bounced off the beautiful diamond engagement ring. "This will deter any man from taking what's mine."

"You needn't worry about that," she soothed him. "My heart belongs to one man."

Draco's arm tightened around her waist, his fingers stroking the naked skin of her calf as she lay curled up beside him. He glanced down at her. The sunlight caught the strands of her hair until they glowed a warm mocha with natural golden highlights. Her beauty would never compare to that of his mother or even Katie, for that matter, but he had stopped caring about outward appearances years ago. Her beauty was naturally soft and there was a touch of elegance about her that reminded him strongly of his Aunt Jewels. Hermione did not consider herself beautiful; he doubted that she even thought of herself as pretty or attractive. He made her believe when he took the time to whisper those words in the shell of her ear and to show her with soft touches.

"I'm glad you're mine, my darling," he breathed.

Together, they watched as the sky started to darken from azure blue to twilight purple, baby pink and pale gold as the sun sank beneath the horizon. A quarter moon hung low, its face glowing silver. Stars appeared slowly and they sparkled clear and cold and brighter than any diamond on Earth; they reflected in the still surface of the Black Lake until the two of them felt submerged in another realm entirely. It was beautiful.

"I suppose we should probably return to the castle," Hermione suggested after the sun had fully vanished and was now just a stream of brilliant light on the horizon. "We'll want to make sure we're up good and early for tomorrow."

He didn't want to. In that moment, Draco wished that he could stop time and spend the rest of his life with her trapped in this one instant for eternity.

"Come on, Draco." She stood up and held out her hand to him. The breath in his lungs stilled at the sight of her silhouette against the starred sky that stretched out around them toward infinity. "Let's go."

He allowed her to help him to his feet; he refused to release her hand, enjoying her fingers entwined around his, and they walked up the castle's steps and through the main entrance. The doors closed behind them and, to Draco, it sounded like they were closing on the end of this part of his journey. Tomorrow they would open up on to a brand new adventure, a brand new chapter, in his life.

With two hours until their curfew they decided to head down to his father's chambers where they found Harry and Katie talking amiably with Sev and Sarai over evening tea and dessert. Hermione joined Katie on the sofa while Draco chose the single remaining armchair. Sev and Sarai cuddled on the loveseat with his arm about his wife's shoulders and her hand resting lightly on his knee. Cafall, their misthound, lay upon the floor with his head resting tiredly on his paws after having spent much of the evening with Sirius in his canine form, his wife, Dudley and Lyra. Toria had been put to sleep about an hour and a half ago (around 7:30ish) with Smidgen watching over the little girl's dreams until she was sound asleep. The Dreamweaver cat sat upon the mantle of the fireplace lapping eagerly at a thimble full of fresh milk. Nesmay had either chosen to spend the night in her dorm with Luna or she would return to sleep in her father's quarters shortly.

Hermione accepted the teacup that Sarai held out to her and added a lump of sugar and some cream to it before she snatched a lemon scone from the tray of sweets.

"You should all be very proud of yourselves," the half-fae warrior told them as she gazed from Harry to Draco to Hermione. "Sev and I are very proud of all of you." She smiled at Hermione. "I can't speak for your parents, Hermione, but I'm sure that they are as proud of you as we are."

"Thank you, Sarai." One could expect no higher praise from the former captain of the Queen's Blades.

"Are your parents coming to your graduation ceremony tomorrow?" Severus asked her curiously.

She nodded. "They should be here around 10 o'clock this evening. I believe Professor Dumbledore has arranged for them to stay in the guest wing of the castle."

Her parents would be arriving via the Hogwarts Express and, like the students, travel by thestral-pulled carriages where they would be able to see the castle in all of its glory. When they arrived at the main entrance of the school, Headmaster Dumbledore would cast a temporary spell that would grant them access to the castle. For the first time, the Grangers would be able to experience their daughter's world with her.

"I believe the Weasleys are already here," Sarai said.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Ron went to spend the rest of the day with them."

"Ah," Severus murmured at last understanding why the last member of the intrepid trio was not present. His wife gently elbowed him in the side and muttered, "Behave."

"That reminds me," Katie spoke up. "Since the Weasleys are here and the Grangers are on their way, how come Phil is only arriving tomorrow?"

Sev and Sarai smiled at one another.

"I'm afraid you'll just have to wait and see," she answered.

"Why?" Draco demanded. "What's going on?"

Severus shook his head. "No, Dragon. Philip asked us to keep quiet. He wants to tell you himself."

"Who wants to tell us what?"

Nesmay walked through the door and this young woman hardly resembled the rebellious 12 year old granddaughter of Queen Titania. Nesmay had grown over the past three years she had spent with her adoptive mother and father. The hedgehog princess was no more. Deep golden brown hair fell to her shoulders in a natural sweep, the multiple layers framing her sharp features and emphasizing her golden eyes. Her body had also matured over the past three years; her black robes emphasized the width of her hips and the subtle curve of her breasts. She stood regally, with a quiet confidence that was earned rather than inherited and a gentle tilt of her head. No one would mistake this young woman as a mere witch; everyone would recognize the fae blood that tied her irrevocably to the World Beyond and Queen Titania herself.

"Your uncle has something that he wants to tell you," her father repeated.

"What?"

"He'll tell you tomorrow after he arrives."

Nesmay tilted her head and this caused a strand of her hair to fall across her face; lips pursing, she brushed it back behind her pointed ears. Her curiosity was piqued.

"Come sit down," Sarai urged her. "Have some tea with us before we all head to bed for the night."

Nesmay sat down on the floor between her father's and mother's legs with a teacup and saucer in hand. She remembered her lessons and knew that crossing one's legs was very unladylike but she didn't care.

"What do you think Uncle Phil wants to tell us?" she asked, looking up at her brothers and their girlfriends because her parents refused to share.

"I don't know," Draco muttered.

"It could be anything," Harry agreed.

"Smidgen, do _you_ know?"

_:I do, youngling,:_ the shimmerling sent. She lifted her head from her thimble of milk, her violet eyes sparkling. _:But I promised that I would say nothing. He and Julie wish to tell you themselves.:_

"So it involves Uncle Phil and Aunt Jewels," Nesmay murmured thoughtfully to herself. She didn't see the knowing smile that her parents exchanged with one another. "Well . . . Can you at least tell us if it's good news or not?"

"If it was bad news, we would have told you, Nesmay," Sarai promised her daughter. She rested a comforting hand on Nesmay's shoulder, squeezing gently.

And, as if to prove her wrong, the medallions that Harry and Severus wore around their necks, as Heir and Heir Apparent of Prince Manor, started to glow and burn. Harry curled his fingers around his amulet and his vision momentarily swam before it cleared.

The dormant fireplace suddenly ignited with brilliant green flames that roared angrily and filled the room with an eerie light. Cafall rose to his feet, his tail erect behind him, and the fur bristling along his back, his growl low and vicious as he gazed directly into the raging fire.

Phil stumbled out of the hearth.

Holding his wife in his arms, he staggered forward and then fell to his knees with a quiet groan; he lost his balance and would have slammed face first into the floor if he hadn't shot out a hand at the last second to steady himself. He lifted his head; his normally violet eyes now blazed a bright, hellish red, his cat-like pupils narrowed into thin slits.

". . . Sev . . ." he rasped. ". . . Forgive me . . ."

He lowered his head, his black hair spilling down his shoulders in knotted and bloody tangles. It seemed in that moment that all of his strength abandoned him.

Not one of them knew how to react to the sight of the suave overly protective vampire kneeling in the middle of their family room floor. Blood stained his white long-sleeved shirt and his black breeches; droplets had dried on the side of his face and neck while his hands appeared to be coated in the red liquid. Blood rolled off the hand splayed on the floor, staining the cold stone underneath him. His clothes, always impeccable, were torn in several places and it seemed that he had even torn strips from his shirt to create makeshift bandages. The acrid scent of wood smoke lingered around him. Leaning toward him, Harry realized that the hand splayed across the floor wasn't stained with blood – his skin was raw as though he had plunged it through flame.

Severus stepped forward, attempting to close the distance between himself and Philip, only to stop short when the vampire hissed at him. It had been instinctive, an animal's hiss, a vampire's desperate warning to keep them away in order to protect his injured mate and children.

Cafall barked loudly and then whimpered when Phil's vermillion eyes flicked in his direction.

"In the name of Merlin," Harry swore.

"What happened?" Severus demanded.

_"_They ambushed us." Phil's voice was soft, retaining its deep and musical tones, but both Sev and Sarai could hear the exhaustion that layered each word he spoke. "They waited until Julie had put the twins to bed before they attacked. I didn't even know they were there until I heard glass shatter and her scream." He bared his teeth and his vermillion eyes began to glow brightly, illuminating his handsome face. "And then Siren and Setus started screaming, too."

Sarai reached for her husband's hand and squeezed his fingers with her own. Both of them could understand the fear that would have gripped the vampire at the sound of his children's terrified screams. They vividly remembered when Jarillion had kidnapped Harry, Draco and Nesmay, bringing them to the palace in the frozen wastelands of the Faerie Realms. Jarillion had committed unspeakable acts against their sons and daughter by forcing them to learn dark magic. Dark magic could not corrupt an unwilling soul but it could taint that person forever more; only through the Healing Pools and Queen Titania's aid were Harry, Draco and Nesmay healed of the darkness that marked them.

Draco stepped forward and everyone felt the hair on the backs of their neck stand on end as Philip's attention focused on him. He stopped well before Phil would feel threatened by his presence and kept his body language relaxed: he left his arms at his sides, his hands open, and his shoulders down. He was afraid, yes (not of his uncle, mind you, just the situation he found himself in). He asked, "Who ambushed you?"

"Vampire hunters."

Vampire hunters were rare but they _did_ exist.

Most monster hunters were a part of the Helsing Organization or the Hunters Guild of North America. The Helsing Organization had been founded in the late 1800s by Abraham Van Helsing when the world's most infamous vampire, Count Dracula, kidnapped the young Mina Murray. The Hunters Guild of North America had been founded almost a century later in the mid-1950s by a man called Eric Redthorn. It was rumored that Redthorn worked for the FBI and quit when the government refused to acknowledge the existence of intelligent, magical and immortal beings (despite the fact that most people in the United States and Canada already knew the truth). Against his government's wishes, Redthorn contacted the leaders of each magical species – Queen Titania of the Faerie Realms, the Lupine and Lupina of the werewolves, etc. – and proved, not just to his own country but to every other country on the planet, that humans were capable of coexisting peacefully with the other magical races.

Not just anyone could join the Helsing Organization or the Hunters Guild of North America; men and women actually had to obtain a university degree in Magical Anthropology or join the armed forces. Once they graduated, they would then be apprenticed to a Master Hunter (Hunters Guild) or they would spend a tour in the United Kingdom underneath the watchful eye of a master vampire that aligned himself with Helsing. Unlike a soldier, an Apprentice Hunter could spend the better part of two years learning about the magical beings that called Earth home (and even some that didn't (like the fae)) and training with a weapon smith. If after two years the Master Hunter felt that his apprentice could handle himself, the Apprentice Hunter would be given his first field placement. If he succeeded then he would claim the title of Intermediate Apprentice and follow his Master on every mission for the next 10 years. The soldiers stationed at Helsing would never have the opportunity for advancement.

One of the very first rules an Apprentice Hunter or soldier learned was to analyze the situation before plunging headfirst into unknown territory. Most magical beings were content to obey the laws that governed society; of course, both the government and the law knew that there were some beings, like vampires, that killed people on a regular basis in order to survive. As long as they did not draw attention to themselves or 'openly' break the law, society was willing to continue living in blissful ignorance. The Hunters Guild was rarely called because most crimes in North America (at least the ones that could be traced) were committed by humans. It was odd for a vampire to be involved in such a scenario but there were extremely rare cases where the Hunters Guild _was_ called in. If a vampire _was_ discovered at the scene of the crime, 9 times out of 10 it was because the Nightwalker was defending himself or someone nearby.

The vampire hunters that attacked Phil and Julie could not have been members of the Helsing Organization (the Hunters Guild did not have ties across the Atlantic Ocean). The Head of the Helsing Organization and the master vampire that worked alongside him knew about them. The Organization ignored them pretty much as it did with any vampire that obeyed the law and lived peacefully amongst humankind. These vampire hunters had to be rogues or mercenaries up for hire.

The lines around Severus' eyes and mouth tightened while his obsidian orbs darkened with the promise of retribution. Anger surged through his bloodstream until he could feel his heart beating against his chest. He could feel his magic building inside of him; it prickled along the back of his neck and caused the hair on his arms to stand on end and tickled the tips of his fingers.

_"Calm yourself, my friend,"_ Phil's mind voice soothed him.

_"You expect me to be calm after I've just found out that members of my family have been attacked by vampire hunters?"_ he retorted sharply.

_ "I **need** you to calm down, Sev,"_ he pleaded with the other man. _"My control is not at its best tonight. My mate and my twins are injured. All four of us need blood. Your anger is exciting me."_

Severus hissed sharply at the admission. Phil rarely addressed Julie as his mate; the term was considered an endearment and denoted many similar traits that belonged to a husband and wife but, at the same time, it didn't. A mated pair of vampires could not divorce. They shared an intimate bond that transcended beyond just the physical plain. They could _feel_ each other's emotions as if experiencing it for themselves. They shared a mental link (and this was not telepathy or a form of Occlumency; they could erect a thin mental barrier for privacy but that had a tendency to backfire as one missed the intimacy of their mate being so close). Each bond was unique and depended upon the vampire and vampiress. This bond tied them so irrevocably to one another that divorce did not exist; if one died, so, too, would the other.

Phil had shared the information with Sev and Sarai during one of his rare visits to Hogwarts and asked that they keep it to themselves. It wasn't a closely guarded secret amongst their people but neither was it considered general knowledge either. Both Sev and Sarai recognized the fact that he was entrusting them to keep their silence and it warmed Sev's heart.

What caused Severus the greatest amount of concern was the fact that Phil had admitted to being excited by his anger. He could understand his raw emotions impacting Siren and Setus because they were so very young but to agitate their father? Being an ancient and master vampire (no, the two are _not_ the same thing) meant that Phil did not need to hunt once a week or every three days as newly fledged or Blooded (turned) vampires did. He never ever spoke about what it was like to hunt his human prey, and Sev respected the man too much to dare to ask, but it seemed that he had been given a tiny window into what the vampire experienced. Worry cooled his temper.

"What is it?" he all but snarled the demand. "Philip, what's wrong? What aren't you telling us?"

Phil finally raised his head and the breath whooshed from Severus' lungs at the anguish he could see swimming in those vermillion eyes. And then he knew.

"Harry. Draco." He glanced at his sons and they stared back at him solemnly. "Why don't you take your cousins up to the Hospital Wing, hm?"

"No!" Siren shouted.

"Papa, you _promised_!" Setus yelled.

For the first time that evening Severus and Sarai caught a glimpse of their nephews. Siren lay on the floor directly behind his father, his back resting against the lower shelf of the bookcase that stood on either side of the fireplace, his arms wrapped around his legs and his chin resting on his knees. The little boy had clearly suffered a blow to the head because dried blood matted his hair and one side of his face. He stared up at his father; his violet eyes the exact same shade as the older man's, his slit pupils slightly wider than his because he couldn't see as well in the dark just yet.

Setus sat next to his twin, his right arm in a makeshift sling created from the torn strips of Philip's shirt. Blood didn't stain his bandages which led Severus to believe that it had been a clean break that broke his arm. His left eye was swollen shut, a bruise spread down the side of his cheek and halfway down his throat, and dried blood stained his upper lip and nose. He never looked away from his mother's still form.

Cafall whimpered. The misthound then walked over to the injured little boys and, lowering his head, licked Siren's cheek.

Severus spun around and swore vehemently, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The thought of anyone harming children caused him to seethe with rage but he saw red at the thought of anyone wanting to harm his family.

The fae were an especially long-lived race and so they did not reproduce very often but fae children, even a half-blood like Nesmay, were revered by both the Seelie and Unseelie courts. A fae woman, pureblood or half-blood, would not conceive easily and it could take many years before she became pregnant; unlike their mortal cousins, fae women carried a child to term for 8 months instead of nine.

Vampires were true immortals. Once a vampire was Blooded or Died (Born vampires only (between the ages of 16-18), their bodies stopped aging and they would live forever. Of course, they could be killed but it would take an exceptionally skilled hunter to fell a vampire as old and powerful as Phil. Natural sunlight was their greatest weakness with fire able to destroy any being, be it magical or not. Like the fae, vampires rarely reproduced but it did not have anything to do with the female being unable to conceive – a vampire's body is already dead with no heart pumping blood through her veins – and instead had everything to do with true love. Only if a vampire loves with his or her whole being and is loved in return will he be able to procreate; not many beings, magical or not, loved someone so deeply. Severus remembered Phil telling him that Siren and Setus were the first set of twins born in almost 500 years.

"You're both injured," their father began.

"No!" Siren shouted again and, this time, leapt to his feet.

"Siren, Setus, please," he tried again.

"I'm not leaving Mama," Setus intoned stubbornly.

"Me neither," Siren snapped. "I'm staying right here."

Phil bowed his head and his shoulders shook. Severus watched bloody droplets spatter on to the stone floor.

"Please," he begged his children, his voice hoarse. "I don't" – he swallowed thickly – "I don't want you to see your mother like this."

Siren made a soft sound in the back of his throat. Severus turned to see him biting his lip with enough force that his tiny fangs had punctured it; blood pooled around those sharp white teeth before rolling slowly down his chin. His arms wrapped around Cafall's neck. The misthound remained perfectly still when the boy then buried his face into his soft fur to hide the fact that he was crying.

"You promised," Setus whispered. His violet eyes shimmered with tears. "You said Mama would be okay."

"I don't understand," Nesmay murmured. She had remained silent up until that point, watching everything play out before her with her sharp golden eyes. "What's wrong with Aunt Jewels?"

"She has been poisoned." Bleak. Chilling. The vampire's voice sounded strangely calm.

"Poison?" she could not stifle her gasp of surprise.

"I thought vampires were immune to most poisons and diseases?" Harry asked.

"Ordinarily, yes, that is so, Harry," Phil agreed. "But this . . . This is Black Trillium."

"Black Trillium," he murmured. "I've never heard of it."

"You wouldn't. It is a carefully guarded secret amongst my people," Phil explained. "It is a flower that blooms for a period of six weeks once every five years underneath the new moon. It can only be found in northern Canada on the edge of Hudson's Bay. It's poisonous to vampires."

"What do you mean?" Nesmay asked.

"It is a lethal poison." Philip lifted his head and met Nesmay's eyes unblinkingly. Out of all of them, Nesmay was the closest to Julie. "Even at the minimum dosage, it will kill a vampire."

Sev and Sarai stiffened.

"Aunt Jewels is going to die?" Nesmay whispered.

Severus watched as Philip slowly pulled back from his crouched position over his mate and husband and wife saw for the first time exactly _why_ the vampire had been so agitated whenever anyone came too close. Julie lay completely still on the floor, her eyes closed, and her brown hair splayed around her like a halo, with two crossbow bolts protruding from her abdomen; only a small ring of blood encircled the entry points of the bolts on her blouse.

Nesmay stared down at the still form of her aunt, unable to look away from the bolts that protruded from her belly like some grotesque fishing hook. Every mother would willingly pay the ultimate sacrifice in order to save her children; Lily had done so for Harry, Sarai would do so for any of hers and, now, apparently, Julie had given hers. Tears blurred Nesmay's golden eyes, causing them to glitter in the faint light provided from the torches burning on the walls.

"She's not moving, Sev," Sarai whispered.

Contrary to popular belief, a stake through the heart would not kill a vampire; it would merely immobilize them. They could move to some degree but a stake essentially froze them in place.

"Is she . . .?" Severus could not bear to finish his question.

"No, Sev, she yet lives," Philip murmured.

He wrapped one of his hands around the base of the shaft and snapped the head off with the other; he repeated the process with the second bolt. The vampire then gripped the shaft of one of the bolts and then swiftly pulled it free from Julie's belly. Her back arched and a small cry escaped her parted lips. Philip took a hold of the second shaft, yanking it free, and, this time, she did scream, then she fell completely limp in her husband's arms.

Blood began to pool around them from both wounds in Julie's abdomen; it stained the back of her shirt and dampened Philip's knees as it started to soak into the floor. Immediately, Philip pushed his wife's shirt up until he could gaze at the wounds in her belly. Small, black spider-like veins formed dark rings around each wound, the veins linking together where the wounds nearly touched. The skin surrounding the area appeared gray – gray, as in dead and rotting flesh

Philip pointed to the tiny spider-like black veins slowly creeping further outward from Julie's wounds. "You see how her veins are turning black?" he asked. "When the poison reaches her heart, she will die."

"Mama's going to die?"

Setus' voice wavered on the last word and Sev saw Phil close his eyes in an attempt to regain control of his emotions. Severus really did not want to think about those two little boys growing up without their mother or knowing that Phil was silently counting down the days until his sons were old enough to no longer need him. He knew all about losing the woman he loved; he remembered how his heart had ached with an agony that he swore he could feel with every single beat. He remembered the dark despair that had swept over him, erasing the light from his life until he even contemplated joining his lost love. But he also remembered the light returning to his life when he discovered Lily's greatest gift of all: a son. A son that shared his mother's thirst for knowledge and compassion that extended to all living things. And he remembered the first time that he realized he was in love with Sarai, how his beautiful warrior maiden had thawed the ice that surrounded his heart.

Phil would not find love again. If Julie died then so would he. Sev didn't know if the older man would live long enough to raise his sons to maturity or if he would commit suicide before the hour's end; only time could tell. Vampires Mated once throughout their lifetime and it made sense – vampires shared a unique bond with their mates that did not exist amongst the other races. (Each race is different with its own unique traits; it does _not_ mean that one is better than the other; it simply means that they are just that: different. For example, werewolves, like their four legged cousins, would sometimes mate again if their mate died.) Being tied so irrevocably to someone for so many centuries would have a lasting effect on the individual. It was incredibly rare for a vampire to survive the death of its mate.

Setus crawled over to where his mother lay upon the floor and he whimpered when her cold blood dampened his knees. He tilted his head up to meet his father's gaze questioningly and, when Phil inclined his head, he stretched out his hand. The little boy's fingers trembled when he placed his palm against his mother's cheek; she did not stir.

"Mama?" he whispered.

Severus bit back a curse. The boy sounded so incredibly forlorn that it tugged at his heartstrings and his eyes actually burned with the threat of tears. (He could count how many times he had cried in his lifetime on one hand, damn it all.) Sarai's fingers twined around his, her skin warm against his own. He glanced down at his petite warrior maiden and he saw her dark green eyes sparkling with the threat of unshed tears. Unable to bear the sight of her grief, he bowed his head, raising her hand to press a chaste kiss to the back of her fingertips.

"Mama?" Setus tried again but his voice sounded far softer than even moments before. He stroked her cheek with his small thumb.

Her lashes fluttered and with a slow turn of her head she stared up into her son's violet eyes. Her lips moved soundlessly for several moments before she managed to breathe, barely above a murmur, "Don't be scared, Setus. Mama's here."

Nesmay made a sound in the back of her throat, somewhere between a high-pitched whine and a sob.

Setus' chin trembled and his bottom lip quivered. His eyes burned and he blinked rapidly, the hot tears scalding his cheeks and splashing down upon his mother's face. She lifted one hand to cup his and stretched the other toward her husband; Phil gripped her fingers tightly in both of his, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Siren lifted her head and placed it down on his knees, his tiny fingers combing through her hair.

"Please," he begged her, "please don't die, Mama."

Siren hunched his shoulders, his small body literally shaking from the strength of the sobs that built in his chest. His tears mingled with those of his brother's until he noticed the blood trailing from the corners of his mother's eyes. Both boys started to cry harder.

_:My Lord Snape, surely there must be **something** we can do?:_ Smidgen sent desperately. Her tail lashed violently behind her and blue dust sifted from her wings. Her violet eyes swirled with pain.

"Thank you, Smidgen," Phil murmured, his voice hoarse and his head bowed to hide the bloody tears that left crimson trails down his cheeks, "but I'm afraid that there is nothing you can do."

"There has to be something we can do, Uncle Phil!" Nesmay cried. Tears spilled down her cheeks, her golden eyes lightening to molten gold as the emotions flared inside of her, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "There has to be something," she whispered, slowly falling to her knees and beginning to sob in earnest, "something, we can do. Please."

"I can find a unicorn."

Phil's head remained bowed, both his hands clasping Julie's fingers gently in his own. Slowly he lifted his head. His eyes continued to glow that bright hellish red, his slit pupils slightly widened, but hope was barely a flicker in those vermillion depths.

"A unicorn?" Nesmay murmured.

"Of course," Sarai breathed, beginning to understand. "A unicorn's horn can cure any and all poisons."

Her daughter turned to her and she saw that the corners of her eyes were pinched with worry. "Will a unicorn be able to heal a vampire?" she asked.

"A unicorn is a divine incarnation," Sarai explained. "It is a symbol of magic, miracles, purity, innocence and enchantment and true love. A unicorn helped my mother during her pregnancy with me and I believe a unicorn would heal Julie. She does not kill for pleasure or for sport and takes only the blood of the evildoer. Siren and Setus would never have been born if she and Phil didn't love one another with their whole hearts."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Draco demanded stepping forward aggressively and jerking violently when his uncle snarled at him warningly.

"Easy, Draco," Hermione soothed her fiancé. She gently curled her hand around his upper arm and drew him slightly back from where Phil knelt beside his wife. "Give your uncle some space, okay," she whispered. "He feels threatened every time someone goes near your aunt. Let him calm down enough to realize that we aren't a danger to him."

A vampire was at his most dangerous when his mate and children were injured.

"Logically, I know that you aren't, Hermione," Phil murmured and she swore that she thought she heard the subtlest hint of amusement lacing his voice. "But my instincts . . ." Closing his eyes, he shook his head as though in an attempt to clear his thoughts, his lips pulling back in a feral snarl that revealed the lethal fangs at the sides of his mouth. "I must protect her," he whispered. "I must protect my mate."

Taking a tremendous risk, trusting implicitly in the older man, Severus closed the distance that separated him from the vampire and knelt in front of Philip; his black robes billowed behind him, falling softly in a pool of Julie's blood. His muscles tensed, his body coiled to spring, when Phil lunged forward, his mouth agape and his fangs lengthening by several millimeters.

"You are a fool to test my control on this night, Severus," he actually hissed.

"I'm no fool, Phil," Sev replied. He glanced down at Julie; the female vampire stared back at him, her expression quiet, but he could see the physical pain that darkened her eyes. The tips of her fingers were turning gray and those thin black spider-like veins were spreading from her wrists. The Black Trillium was spreading. "I'm going to help you find a unicorn."

"No!" the vampire's enraged snarl took him aback.

"No?" Sev echoed and his voice deepened slightly with offense. "Excuse me, Phil, but you are not my father or my brother. You can't tell me what to do. If you think I'm just going to stand by and do nothing while my daughter's godmother is dying, you have another thing coming!"

Phil shook his head, baring his teeth in agitation.

_"That's not it at all, Sev," _he sent telepathically. _"Don't you understand? I need you to stay here with her. I only trust you! That's why I brought Julie and the twins here. I don't trust anyone else to safely watch over her."_

The breath escaped Sev's lungs in a silent whoosh of air and his heart warmed immeasurably at the trust the vampire was bestowing upon him.

"Will you do this for me, Sev?" Phil asked him.

Staring into those vermillion eyes so devoid of hope, Severus knew that he could not refuse.

"I will."

Phil brushed past Sev and gently shifted Julie into his arms where he cradled her tenderly against his chest. She grimaced in pain as the movement jarred her body and sent shards of agony shooting down her veins. She managed to weakly lift a hand and press her palm flat against his chest directly over his heart.

"Come back . . . to me . . ." she whispered her voice so faint that an ordinary human would never have been able to hear her. "Promise me."

Philip bowed his head and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

"Only if you promise to fight," he growled right back. "You must promise to fight for me. Fight for Siren. Fight for Setus. Promise me you _will not_ give up no matter what happens."

Husband and wife stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity before Julie's lashes lowered in exhaustion and silent submission.

Being careful not to jar her too much as he moved, Philip oh-so-tenderly laid her down on the black leather sofa. Setus crawled up beside her and his father held her upper body until the boy reached for his mother; her head rested on his lap. Siren sat on the stone floor by his mother's head, his arms wrapped around his knees and his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs. Their father bent to place another kiss to her cheek.

"I will come back," he promised her. _I **will** come back._

Clasping Severus on the shoulder, Phil inclined his head in silent thanks and then, without another word, strode out of the Potions Master's chambers without even bothering to draw his veils around himself. Soft, barely spoken words touched his mind but he could feel the agony his mate endured thanks to their intimate bond and _that_ forced him to run faster to the edge of the Forbidden Forest:

_"I will fight."_

**Edited September 2015**

**Author's notes: **Thank you for reading!

**Next:** Will Phil be able to find a unicorn in time to save his wife?


	2. The Unicorn

Chapter 2: The Unicorn

"Here."

Severus raised his head tiredly when Sarai offered him a cup of warm tea laced with Firewhiskey. His fingers curled around the smooth china and he breathed in the scent of chamomile deeply; although the tea did not scald his tongue, the shot of whiskey burned the back of his throat and left a heated trail down the inside of his chest. The unexpected spike of adrenaline momentarily chased away the tiredness that caused his eyelids to droop but he found himself beginning to doze off once again.

Nesmay dozed fitfully, having fallen asleep less than two hours ago, curled up against the side of the armchair, her head resting on her arms. Cafall lay down beside her, his head resting on his paws, his bushy tail thumping the ground occasionally, the firelight reflecting in his dark eyes. Both Siren and Setus managed to nod off before her but Setus kept jerking awake every few minutes to check on his mother. Harry, Draco, Hermione and Katie sat around the dinner table, Hermione with her chin resting in her palm, Katie with her head leaning against Harry's shoulder. Smidgen perched atop of the sofa, the tiny feline pacing back and forth along its length, unable to sit still with so much emotion swirling around her. And, although Julie's eyes remained closed, she was not sleeping: the pain from the spreading Black Trillium prevented her from doing so.

Severus hated feeling helpless. He remembered the feeling all too well as he watched his mother succumb to his father's alcoholic-induced tyranny and then die slowly from a debilitating disease. He remembered the feeling when Dumbledore pointedly refused to remove Harry from the Triwizard Tournament and forced an underqualified _and_ underaged wizard to compete against older, far more experienced adults. He remembered that feeling upon learning about his sons' and daughter's abduction by Jarillion, the Winter Queen's eldest son and former heir to the throne of the Winter Kingdom. He remembered the feeling as he held Draco against his chest, weeping, and begging his oldest son not to succumb to the Golden Plague that would have stripped him of his magic and his life. He remembered the feeling as he stared at the lifeless body of his stillborn child.

He could do nothing for the vampiress that lay still as death on the sofa in his family room. It was a known fact that vampires couldn't taste or digest solid food. On rare occasions the two adults would share in a bottle of red wine with Sev and Sarai but the alcohol had virtually no effect upon them. Magic, Dark or Light, it didn't matter, could not harm them, which meant that Sev's skills as a Potions Master and Healer (every Potions Master or Mistress learned firsthand the knowledge that went about healing a body with the proper potion because a wrongly administered potion could kill your patient) were useless here.

Julie's stab wounds continued to bleed freely, her blood pooling on the thick leather sofa, when they should have started to heal. Those thin spiderlike black veins continued to slowly spread outward until they covered her belly and crept up toward her ribcage. Her pale skin turned to a shade of mottled gray where those black veins stretched out their branches like the long slender fingers of a gnarled hand. Her heart no longer beat, no longer pumped blood through her veins, but the poison swept through her body at an alarming rate and _this_ caused a fever to burn inside of her. Induced by the Black Trillium, the fever would only accelerate the poison's effectiveness and, as it rushed to infiltrate the rest of the vampire's system, she started to shiver.

He conjured a thick blanket with his wand and quickly covered the shivering vampire with it, tucking the ends underneath the cushions of the sofa, and within minutes it was soaked through with blood. Instinctively, Severus pressed his hand against her forehead and instantly drew it back at the heat that he could feel there. He summoned a bowl, which he magically filled with water and a cloth that he immediately soaked through and then placed on her forehead.

Roused by his motions – for movement triggered the predatory instincts of even a child vampire –, Setus stirred from his slumber and immediately rushed to his mother's side. His small hands gripped the leather armrest of the sofa as he stared up at Severus with wide violet eyes that shimmered with tears; his lips parted in a grimace that revealed his small but lethally sharp fangs.

Sev couldn't bear the anguish he could see swirling in his nephew's eyes. _A child his age shouldn't ever have to experience something so heart-wrenching,_ he thought. _He should be learning how to play Quidditch and driving his parents crazy as he and Siren find places to hide. They shouldn't have to worry about the fact that their mother is dying on my couch._

Small hands cupped the female vampire's temples and Setus leaned down to place a tender kiss on her forehead, the gesture a child's desperate wish for his mother to feel better. Suddenly, Julie jack-knifed on the couch, causing Smidgen to leap into the air, her butterfly wings allowing her to hover momentarily, her fur standing on end in agitation. Julie's eyes flew open, and her pupils contracted into thin slits, before she swung her head and vomited blood all down the front of her blouse and comforter.

"M-mama?" Setus' voice shook.

"Sarai, quickly!" Sev cried as he rushed forward. Cafall sprang to his feet, excited by his master's mad dash forward, and started barking furiously before he realized what was happening. Then the misthound's ears flattened; his tail curled between his legs as he began whimpering softly. Nesmay, jolted awake by the commotion, watched her aunt vomiting with wide amber eyes. Flicking his wand, her father conjured a bucket beneath the vampire's mouth but blood continued to erupt from her lips and the stab wounds in her abdomen. "Harry, get Setus away from here!"

The little vampire stood beside the couch, his arms wrapped around himself, his entire body shaking with gut-wrenching sobs that tore at Sev's heart. In that moment, he silently thanked Merlin that it was Julie lying on his couch, dying an agonizing death, instead of Sarai or one of his children. It was an incredibly selfish thought, and he instantly regretted it, but he was human and humans as a whole were inherently selfish creatures.

"M-mama!" Setus sobbed.

Harry tried to ignore the sight of his stepmother and father fighting to save his aunt's life as he slowly knelt in front of Setus. He gently pulled the younger boy into arms and against his chest, as his own father had done with him so many times before, and simply held him there. Slowly, the little boy's arms wrapped around Harry's neck and Setus pressed his face into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

"It'll be okay, Setus," he whispered, trying to soothe the distraught child. "I promise you, it will be okay."

"I d-don't want M-mama to d-die!" he wailed.

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat and his own eyes burned with the threat of tears. _How awful it must be,_ he thought, _to be old enough to have memories of what a wonderful mother she is and then to lose her._

He knew that if his aunt died, it would destroy his uncle and cousins in ways that he couldn't imagine. He had never known his mother but his father had told him stories about her until she became a real person to him; he knew that she had loved him with every fibre of her being, sacrificing herself with the help of the Mother Guardianship spell in order to save him. He loved his stepmother as deeply as he loved his father but Lily would always hold a very special place in his heart that Sarai never would. His aunt may not have used the Mother Guardianship spell but it was clear that she was willing to pay any price to save the lives of her children. Selflessness and sacrifice went hand-in-hand with love, the purest and strongest form of magic to ever exist on planet Earth.

He lifted his head, his gaze catching Katie's beautiful ocean's blue eyes overtop of his cousin's head; her eyes sparkled with unshed tears and then he watched as one rolled slowly down her cheek.

Beside her, Draco held Hermione as she wept quietly into his chest, her tears dampening his shirt, her hands fisted in his robes.

Nesmay held Siren firmly around the waist, pulling him back against her chest, as the child became limp in her arms, crying brokenheartedly. The half-fae princess also wept alongside him, her golden eyes appearing vibrant within her pale face as crystalline tears sparkled on her white cheeks.

Sarai rushed toward the doubled-over vampire, Julie's hand clutching at the wounds in her belly, the other fisted angrily in the blood-soaked comforter, red tears running down her pale, pale cheeks. Those insidious spider-like black veins crept ever higher; her fingers turned gray before their eyes, her nails blackening and beginning to dissolve, blood pooling in the grooves where they should be. It spilled over her fingers, hand and wrist until it looked as if she had dipped her entire forearm into red paint. It dampened the very tips of her hair and left bloody streaks against her chin and jaw.

Siren clung to Nesmay and Setus clung to Harry, sobbing hysterically, the two little boys unable to tear their eyes away from their mother as she continued to bleed slowly to death right in front of them.

Sev and Sarai tried to make her comfortable but the pain caused from the poisonous Black Trillium made that impossible. The Black Trillium did to a vampire what not even the sun or fire could do: as the poison spread slowly throughout a vampire's bloodstream, it convinced the immortal cells that they were actually dead. It was like how white blood cells would attack an invading cold or flu; the Black Trillium attacked the immortal blood cells and transformed them into dying or dead cells. This caused her indescribable pain as her body started to die, destroying nerves and deteriorating her very flesh and bones. The Black Trillium was quite literally turning Julie's body against her.

Finally she stopped heaving and Julie fell back against the cushions, completely and utterly exhausted, her lashes lowering, her lips slightly parted. She opened her eyes when Sarai used a warm cloth to wash the blood from her face. Severus carefully removed the soaked-through comforter from her body, exposing the gaping wounds in her belly that continued to weep blood. Her blouse, shredded from the two arrows that pierced her abdomen, barely covered her midsection. Those thin black spiderlike veins now spread out across the entire width of her ribcage and started to creep along her shoulders and neck.

"I'm sorry," the vampiress gasped. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her lips trembled violently. "I'm so very sorry! Please forgive me, I don't mean to be a burden."

Severus clenched his jaw at the emotion he could hear in every syllable of her apology. His beloved Sarai leaned forward and tenderly pushed a loose strand of Julie's hair behind her ear and that sent the female vampire over the edge as she started to sob. She lifted her hand and curled her fingers around Sarai's wrist but her grip was incredibly weak. Those thin spiderlike black veins now covered her shoulders and arms and began to crawl up her neck.

"M-mama," Setus' voice quivered.

_"I'm here, baby boy,"_ her mind voice sounded faint and exhaustion lingered around the edges of her consonants but it was clear as a bell in their minds. _"Mama's here, my beautiful boys."_

"Please d-don't die, M-mama," Siren whispered.

_"I promised your Pa that I would fight, didn't I?"_ she reminded them gently. _"I will never stop fighting for you or for your father, my darlings."_

It was a promise she fully intended to keep, Severus knew, but if Phil could not find a unicorn in time, the Black Trillium would run its course and kill the female vampire.

She was not Lily. Lily, his spitfire, was never one to bottle her emotions, like her foolish husband, and would often tell him when she thought he was being particularly stubborn. In the four years that he had come to know her, he had never seen Julie lose her temper or raise her voice in anger and Merlin alone knew how similar her mischievous twins were in comparison to _his_ sons. She was not Sarai. Sarai, his warrior maiden, matched her husband's fighting spirit, soul to soul, and both would fight to live another day. He did not believe that Julie possessed that core of steel inside herself that would drive her to fight to live to see another day.

Not for the first time he found himself wondering what Philip saw in the petite vampiress. She was pretty enough, yes, quiet, if a bit shy, and kind to a fault but there was also a gentle vulnerability about her that reminded him strongly of his mother. Phil did not abuse her – of that, he was absolutely certain; to believe otherwise would be to incur the wrath of the ancient master vampire.

He jerked his head downward when Sarai's fingertips brushed over the sensitive skin of his knuckles and he stared into her beautiful green eyes that sparkled in the candlelight with the threat of tears. His arm encircled her waist, pulling her close to his chest, her slender body melting against his side as she pressed her cheek to his breast where she could hear the subtle beating of his heart. His Sarai, his beloved warrior maiden, would not break down in front of her children. She had softened over the years that they had been married but she had spent the majority of her lifetime guarding the queen and surrounded by her fellow soldiers and both of them knew that giving in or revealing one's emotions was considered as a form of weakness.

Her friendship with Julie was unique because the two women were such polar opposites in personality but, somehow, it worked. Sarai enjoyed spending time with the vampire and Julie would often invite her over to spend the day shopping or pampering themselves at the spa in the heart of London. On rare occasions Nesmay, Hermione, Katie and even Molly Weasley would join them for an evening out.

Severus glanced down at his wife. She still experienced the prejudices of wizard kind in spite of the fact that she had been teaching at Hogwarts for the past three years. She was familiar with prejudice and even expected it a little – the fae, like vampires, were a mysterious race that the Ministry of Magic knew very little about – because most British wizards and witches were quite arrogant when one came to think about it. However, wizard kind did not fear the fae the way that they feared vampires and werewolves. Like the fae, vampires were an enigma within British magical society but, unlike the fae, a wizard would be less inclined to take the time to get to know them and more inclined to attack instead. _That_ was the main reason why Phil and Julie were so wary about revealing the truth to anyone other than those who already knew what they were. Above all, wizard kind feared werewolves and openly discriminated against them. It did not matter how popular or well-liked Remus Lupin was; the fact that he was a werewolf would mean that his government would never see him as anything more than animal.

_"Sev. Sarai."_

Both husband and wife looked up when Julie's mind voice brushed gently across their thoughts. The woman that lay upon their couch resembled an old woman on her deathbed instead of an eternally young vampiress. She stared at them somberly, her expression quiet, but her eyes shone within her ashen face, glowing with so many emotions that neither Sev nor Sarai could name them all.

_"Will you do me a favour?"_ she asked them. _"Just one favour." _

Sarai lifted a hand to cover her quivering lips and she bowed her head in an attempt to hide the hot tears that burned her eyes but two managed to break free of her control and rolled silently down her cheeks. He could feel her trembling against his side, as she fought to control her emotions, and his hold on her tightened.

"Yes, of course we will, Julie," he answered, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Anything."

_"Please tell Philip that what happened to me isn't his fault. Please tell him that I would do what I did all over again if I had to." _

Sev's arms tightened around his wife's slender body. She pressed her face into his chest, her hands gripping fistfuls of his robe. Her silent tears dampened his shirt.

"I will, Julie, I give you my word." His voice cracked.

_"And tell him . . . tell him to find happiness again." _

"Why are you saying things like that, Aunt Jewels?" Harry demanded. "You're not dead yet. You promised Uncle Phil you wouldn't stop fighting!"

_"And I haven't, my fiery little Phoenix,"_ she answered him gently. _"I am being realistic. The chance of Phil finding a unicorn in time to save me is very slim. Even now, I can feel the poison spreading further, drawing closer to my heart. This is no longer a point of 'if' but 'when' I die." _

Harry's emerald eyes shone with unshed tears.

"You can't say things like that, Aunt Jewels," he whispered, his voice rasping. "You have to believe that Uncle Phil will find a unicorn. I _know_ he will."

_"There is no doubt in my mind that he will,"_ she agreed.

Neither Sev nor Sarai heard the words she spoke to her twin sons but they did not need to when both little boys started to cry harder than ever before. Both of them placed gentle kisses on her cheeks, Setus even pausing a moment to run his hand through his mother's hair.

_"Promise me you'll tell him, Sev,"_ she whispered. _"Promise me."_

"I promise."

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

_I never thought dying could be so very painful,_ Julie thought.

Agony seared along her nerve endings. It was pain unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It was far greater than the time she and her sister had nearly perished at the stake, greater than her giving birth to her twins and greater still than the crossbow bolts that had pierced her belly several hours ago.

The insidious poison that slowly corrupted her undead cells combined with the blood loss until exhaustion weighed her down. Everything hurt and she wondered distantly if this was what the elderly experienced as their bodies slowly began to shut down and die. Her heart had stopped beating centuries ago when she Died, and therefore no blood was pumped through her body, allowing her to remain eternally young, eternally healthy and eternally strong. Now she did not have the strength to open her eyes let alone to raise her hand. _It's funny,_ she thought with a morbid sense of humour, _I never thought I'd feel so **old**._

_Old and decrepit,_ she thought and would have snorted with amusement had she the strength to do so. _I am weak. Weak and useless, like a broodmare too old for breeding and so I must be put out to pasture._

That wasn't fair and she knew it. Like her husband, she had watched the people she loved so dearly grow older with each passing year until, at last, they passed away to join their Lord in the Kingdom of Heaven. It was true that as their time on this earth drew to a close that they lost much of their vigor and strength but they also gained wisdom and the comfort that their loved ones would live on and far surpass them. There were moments that she secretly envied the mortals around her because they aged with the passage of time and she never would. She and Philip had watched Elizabeth – Queen Elizabeth the First – age gracefully, content and happy to be an old woman, warm in her bed and to pass away peacefully in her sleep. Her death had struck Philip hard. He had loved her and served her faithfully for more than fifty years.

Philip did not love easily and Julie knew that he found it incredibly difficult to watch those whom he considered family grow old and die. He loved Severus; he loved Severus as deeply as he had loved his old brother Theo and his younger sister Eleanor (both of whom he rarely ever spoke of). She alone knew that her husband continued to feel guilty over the fact that he had been unable to save Severus or Harry from their abusive families.

Her husband was a knight. He continued to live by the code of chivalry that had guided his actions as a young man and later on as an ally of Queen Titania and an advisor and guardian to both King Richard III and Queen Elizabeth I.

She loved him. She did not want him to spend the rest of his eternal life unhappy. He would suffer, unable to share his heart with another woman because he would feel that he was betraying her memory if he did so.

She was not Sarai. She did not share the woman's indomitable spirit. She was weak. She could be broken. She _had_ been broken. And it had been Philip who had helped her pull the shattered pieces of her soul back together. _He_ had taught her that she was deserving of love when she believed herself unworthy of it. _He_ had taught her how to find her courage when she believed herself to be a coward.

She had promised that she would fight for Siren and Setus, that she would fight for him.

The thought of her sons growing up without her sent shards of fiery rage sizzling through her synapses. Bitterness and despair hardened into steel. She wanted to watch her sons grow up to become fine young men. They would only want her affection for a few more precious years before they became teenagers and hugging their mother was no longer something cool but rather embarrassing.

And Philip … she loved Philip with all of her heart but there was a part of her that still believed he deserved someone far more worthy of his love than her.

_"There is no one else for me but you,"_ he told her sharply but his mind voice sounded so very far away. _"Do not give up hope so easily, my Wildfire. I am coming. Fight. Fight just a little bit longer."_

She _was_ fighting. With every ounce of willpower she possessed, she fought against succumbing to the darkness that stretched along the edges of her consciousness, knowing that if she surrendered herself to oblivion, she would never awaken. And it frightened her. She had always considered herself a coward, too afraid of the repercussions for disobeying a direct order from her stepfather or ardent suitor, and, this time, Philip was not here to rescue her. For the first time in over 400 years, she was alone.

_Please,_ she silently begged, blindly searching for the bond she shared with her husband. _Please, Phil. Please don't leave me alone._

The pain she could handle. She would endure a thousand horrors, a hundred thousand horrors, to save the lives of her precious children. She could _not_ handle the loneliness or the grief that filled her heart with the knowledge that she would never see her sons or her husband again. Although her loved ones surrounded her, they could offer her no comfort as she faced the end of her time on Earth and prepared to meet her Maker. This journey she would have to make alone.

_Phil. Oh Phil,_ she silently wept because she had not the strength to draw breath or for the tears to dampen her lashes. _I wish you were here but, maybe, it's better that you are not. Maybe it's better this way. I wish … I wish that I could tell you how much I love you, just one more time. I wish that I could have seen Siren and Setus grow up. _

She could no longer feel the cold blood that slowly trickled from her fingertips or that clogged the back of her throat. Even the pain started to ebb slowly away. Those terrible thin spiderlike black veins had finally reached her heart.

_"Don't be afraid,"_ a soft feminine voice whispered as she began to flounder in the darkness that now washed upon her conscious mind like gentle ocean waves upon the sand. _"I am here. Do not be afraid."_

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

He hated feeling helpless.

He could remember the few times in his very long life that he had felt such helplessness and it had left a bitter taste on his tongue then as it did so now.

Phil glanced down at his mate, her head resting listlessly against his chest, her shoulder pressing into his ribcage, as he strode through the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts, through the double doors and raced toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Around his mortal family he rarely called Julie his mate; the name tended to make them feel uncomfortable (even though it actually carried a far more intimate meaning amongst the magical beings of the world (and, _no_, it did not refer to the physical act)).

He had found her when he had least expected it; everyone, from Elizabeth to Titania and even himself, believed that he was in love with his companion of over a century, Ophelia. He remembered the very first time they had met, he mistaking her for Ophelia and her panicking at the sight of the captain of the queen's personal guard. Looking in to her wide, fearful eyes, it had struck him, then, that _she_ was the one he had been dreaming of. It had floored him. This petite noblewoman was his mate? She was not fierce and beautiful and regal like Elizabeth. She was not tempting and mischievous nor was she a diplomat of a foreign nation like Ophelia. There had been something about her, a vulnerability, that had called out to him. The first time he had bitten her, his tongue laving at the wounds he'd inflicted upon her neck, her blood rolling down the back of his throat, their minds had connected in a way that had never before happened between him and another vampire.

As he raced through the courtyard, across the bridge and down the steps, he called himself several kinds of idiot in every language that he knew.

He hadn't known how long his mate would have had to live.

He had known of the Black Trillium. Just as he had known that there was a certain group of mercenaries that favoured using the deadly flower when they hunted vampires. What he _hadn't_ known was the poison's duration or how long it would effectively take to kill a vampire. He had heard that it could take up to three days before the vampire finally succumbed and died. He had also heard that it could take less than three minutes.

Ten hours. Ten hours his mate had suffered from the Black Trillium: plenty of time for him to speak with Titania and borrow the Cup from her.

_I am such a fool,_ he thought, his arms tightening protectively around her. _Now … now I have only minutes to save her._

As he raced down the gentle slope, past Hagrid's hut and toward the very edge of the Forest, he saw her.

The unicorn stood in between the trunks of two ancient oaks, their gnarled branches stretching high above her head like the outstretched arms of two elderly ladies seeking forgiveness from their god. Sunlight streamed through the boughs of the trees, the pale morning rays brushing against her silver flank and causing her fur to glow with golden dapples. Her horn, about a foot and half in length, spiraled upward in the center of her forehead, parting her willowy forelock until the loose strands fell into her eyes. Tossing her head, the unicorn lifted her legs, as slender and as delicate as any doe's, in a small rear that was known in the equestrian world as a levade; her cloven hooves shone silver.

As Philip fell to his knees before her, the unicorn's nostrils flared and she snorted from the strong scent of blood that clung to both vampires. Her eyes, such a deep blue as to appear purple, filled with gentle compassion when she gazed down at the female vampire lying prone in her mate's arms.

"Please," Phil cried, desperation evident in his voice, "please, save her!"

Philip stared up at her, his arms wrapped protectively around his mate, as he continued to cradle her against his chest. Blood tears trailed slowly down his cheeks. "Please," he begged her a second time, his head falling down as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind Julie's ear. "Please save her. I can't live without her."

The unicorn did not hesitate. Stepping closer, she tilted her head slightly forward and pressed the very tip of her horn into the center of Julie's forehead. "Don't be afraid," she whispered. "I am here. Do not be afraid."

Philip bowed his head, bloody droplets dripping down to spatter like shards of broken rubies on to Julie's cheek.

_Come back to me, my darling,_ he thought, pulling her body closer to his and bowing his head, even as the very tip of the unicorn's horn began to emit a pale silver light. _Please come back to me, my Wildfire. You're compassionate and selfless. You light up the world around you in spite of the wrongs you've endured. You are so much more than just my love. You are my Wildfire. My Star. I can always find my way home with your light shining brightly to guide me. Please … please don't leave me._

He could not bear to watch the unicorn and so he closed his eyes, his lips pulling back in a grimace of agony. The anger that had nearly consumed him hours ago had finally died down into a simmering rage. He vowed that he would find the people responsible for harming his mate and, when he did, he would kill them all. No one, _no one_, harmed his family and walked away unscathed. He would not allow it.

_But what good are a few minutes of revenge worth in comparison to spending the rest of eternity alone?_ He thought.

His shoulders shook with silent sobs and he bit his lip until he tasted blood on his tongue. Revenge would bring him a few fleeting moments of malicious joy but it would not bring Julie back from the dead.

As he sat there, cradling his mate, the light from the unicorn's horn slowly began to grow in both strength and intensity. Like the waves of the Black Lake that lapped gently on its shores, the light pulsed, expanding outwards, the edges of it shimmering in a miasma of colour – from pinks to purples, blues to greens, golds to silvers. Sparkles of colour brushed against Phil's skin with the fleeting quickness of winter snowflakes and, where they touched, he swore that he could feel a tingle of energy.

The unicorn tipped her head back and gently nibbled at Philip's fingers in order to gain his attention. When those violet eyes focused on her she murmured, "I have removed all traces of the poison from your mate, my Lord, but," she added when she that he was about to weep for joy, "you must know. Your mate fought for as long as she could. She was upon the very brink of death when you brought her to me. It is possible that, while I have healed her, her soul no longer resides in this world."

"How will I know for certain whether or not she is whole?" he asked her.

"I believe you could kiss her," the unicorn informed him. "For love is the ultimate power in this world and a kiss is often represented as a symbol of true love amongst mortals, is it not?"

"A kiss," he murmured, almost absentmindedly. Then: "Yes, of course, true love's kiss!"

Phil lowered his head and pressed his lips to Julie's in a gentle, heartwarming kiss.

He waited with baited breath for several moments, then her lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes.

"The babies?" she whispered.

With a heart wrenching cry, he smothered her with kisses as tears rolled down his cheeks. "It's my fault," he cried, burying his face in the crook of her neck, unable to meet her eyes. "It's my fault that you were attacked, that you nearly died."

Julie's eyes flicked in the direction of the unicorn but she had vanished between the trees, returning to her home deep within the heart of the forest.

Tenderly, she cupped Phil's cheeks, her thumbs smoothing away the tears she saw there. "It is not your fault," she told him gently. "I would have stood between anyone who threatened to harm Setus or Siren."

He lifted a hand to cover her fingers and pressed a kiss to them, his violet eyes still shining with tears. "It was because of me," he whispered again. "I was arrogant. I didn't believe that anyone would be foolish enough to attack me, let alone the people that I loved. And, because of it, you nearly died."

"Nearly doesn't count, my love," she murmured. "I've _nearly_ died before and for much less than saving the lives of our children."

He closed his eyes. "It never makes it any easier, you know."

"If life were easy, it wouldn't be worth living," she said matter-of-factly. "Your life, my life, the lives of those we hold dear to us, Philip, has never been easy nor will it ever be so." She smiled at him, that sweet shy smile she reserved for him alone. "Come now. I want to see the twins."

Standing up, cradling her against his chest, Phil turned back toward the castle.

**Edited January 2016**

**Author's Notes: **Thank you for reading!

**Next:** Harry, Sev and his family are invited to attend to the Quidditch World Cup.


	3. Cherry Blossoms

Chapter 3: Cherry Blossoms

"May I have your attention please?"

Harry glanced over at his uncle when the man stood up at the head of the table in an effort to gather everyone's attention. Impeccably dressed, as always, Phil wore black trousers with a white sleeved shirt and a tan coloured jacket; his black hair framed the sharp contours of his cheekbones and his violet eyes appeared to absorb the light and reflect it back within his pale face. He held a glass carafe filled with red wine in his left hand, slightly raised in the beginnings of a toast

The Three Broomsticks was crowded with the families of graduating Hogwarts' students and the pub's regulars. Madame Rosmerta had had to hire extra staff for the evening. The Snapes, including Phil, Julie and their twins, the Weasleys (minus Percy), the Grangers, the Blacks, Remus and Katie alone took up several tables and the length of the main floor. Smaller parties, from Neville and his grandmother to Susan Bones and her family, sat in intimate booths along the sided and far walls. Waiters and waitresses walked from the kitchens to their assigned tables laden with trays of delicious foods and a variety of drinks. One buxom blond arrived at their table carrying a tray of platters and set down a plate of chicken parmigiana in front of Molly, fish and chips before Arthur and shepherd's pie for Ron. Molly gently smacked her youngest son's palm when he reached for his knife and fork, jerking her head toward Philip. The redhead blushed and mumbled an apology.

"Allow me to begin by offering all of you our sincere congratulations," the vampire said, concealing his fangs from those unaware of what he was, smiling carefully at them all. "Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione, I know that the four of you have not had an easy time of it, what with being expected to complete tasks meant for much older, much wiser wizards and," here his violet eyes flicked warmly between Harry and Draco, "discovering the ties that bind you. In spite of the dangers, in spite of the challenges each of you have faced, you have come out victorious." He raised his glass. "To Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione."

"To Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione!"

"You have all done tremendously well and you should all be very proud of yourselves," he continued. Here he indicated Hermione with a gentle tilt of his chin because she graduated as top of their class, valedictorian, but he did not discount the other three for they had earned high marks as well. "As a graduation present and special treat, Julie and I would like to invite you all to attend the Quidditch World Cup with us."

Ron's mouth fell open and Dudley couldn't help but ask, "_All_ of us?"

"The Quidditch World Cup will be held in the United States of America and their laws are very different from the ones here, Dudley," Phil explained, taking his seat. "This means that even non-magical people are welcome to attend."

"That's very kind of you, Philip," Sirius called from the other end of the table. He accepted a second glass of firewhiskey with a polite nod at the waitress that set it before him. "I'm curious as to how you can afford it?"

Underneath the table, Petunia stepped on her husband's foot and glared at him.

"Forgive my husband, Phil," she said.

"There's nothing to forgive, Pet," Sirius growled. "There's nothing wrong with what I asked him."

Petunia glared at him. "_You_'re the one who assumed that Philip was willing to pay for all of us. I didn't."

"My dear lady," Phil interrupted smoothly and this caused Sirius to narrow his eyes at the other man. "My offer stands. I am willing to pay for everyone here at our table to attend the World Cup. It would be quite rude of me only to invite my nephews and their friends and I can assure you that Snape Manor is large enough to accommodate all of you."

"What do you mean?" Remus asked. "Would we simply spend a night at your place and then Portkey to the States?"

"Not at all," he answered, sipping delicately from his wineglass. "Everyone here is welcome to spend the summer with me and Julie. I assure you that there is plenty to do and to keep yourselves entertained. We have several hundred acres of land and a stable full of horses that you may ride at your leisure. It is also only about an hour and a half's drive to York if the city is more to your taste than our simple country estate.

"As for traveling to the United States, it may be wiser to travel by portal than by Portkey or Apparation," Phil murmured. He glanced over at his wife in concern, reaching to gently grasp her knee under the table, and then quickly away. "I despise Apparating and, after my last experience with a Portkey, I am not eager to relive the sensation. Don't you agree, Harry?"

Harry could not agree more; after the Portkey had transported them to the graveyard in Little Hangleton, he was not so inclined to trust them ever again.

"How is traveling by portal any different than traveling by Portkey or Apparation?" Hermione inquired. She sat across from Sirius and in between Katie and Draco. She leaned forward curiously to peer down the length of the table toward Phil and Julie.

"A portal is much safer than Apparation," Julie said quietly. She wore a flattering blue skirt that matched the shade of the stone around her neck with a black bodice and a white blouse underneath. A light navy blue cloak covered her shoulders, an intricate floral design sparkling subtly whenever the flickering flames in the pub struck her just right. Only those who knew her incredibly well would be able to read the exhaustion that caused her lashes to droop so heavily or the pain that tightened her mouth. "A portal will transport you from one place to the next in a span of a few seconds. Unlike a Portkey, a portal can be configured to allow a much greater number of people through it than what a Portkey can handle. And a portal cannot be tampered with to alter its destination."

"If it's so much safer than traveling via Portkey or Apparation, how come wizards don't use that method more often?"

"I do believe that a lot of wizards are unaware of its existence, Hermione," Arthur Weasley replied. "I myself have certainly never come across such a device in all of my years of working for the Ministry nor was it ever mentioned within my hearing."

"Traveling by portal is much more common amongst the fae folk than it is wizard kind," Sarai joined in the conversation then, "considering the fact that it was my people that created such a means."

"And your ministry tends to be quite prejudiced against anyone non-magical," Phil added.

"And nonhumans," Remus muttered.

Phil eyed him shrewdly.

"You don't think that it's a good thing your Ministry of Magic protects you all from dangerous beasts like werewolves?" Mr. Granger asked. "No offense, Mr. Lupin," he added hastily.

Sirius snorted. "Our ministry doesn't protect us from dick all, Mr. Granger. Why, if it weren't for Albus Dumbledore, Remus wouldn't likely have a job and would have been forced to leave the country to find employment elsewhere."

Mrs. Granger lifted a hand to her quivering lips and her eyes, which Hermione had inherited, flicked toward her daughter in concern. Licking her lips nervously, she asked, "Are werewolves really that dangerous, Mr. Black?"

"Only if they lack control or are consumed by moon lust do they pose a threat to you, Mrs. Granger," Phil answered her.

"And what of the Wolfsbane Potion I've heard so much about?" Mr. Granger asked curiously. He looked directly at Remus now. "Does it really turn you into a simple-minded beast?"

"Well …" Remus hedged. "Yes, I suppose, in a way it does."

"And I have told you before, Remus, that relying too heavily on the Wolfsbane Potion is a mistake," Phil said coldly. "I have told you time and again that the Wolfsbane is meant as a means to help a young or adolescent werewolf learn control. It is a tool. Nothing more."

"You seem pretty knowledgeable in this area, Philip," Sirius sneered. "Unless you're a werewolf – which I know you're not because you and Moony would have fought it out by now – how come you seem to know so much about them?"

"And what do _you_ know of werewolves, Sirius?" Phil returned coolly. "I'm a businessman. I own several corporate companies all around the world and, contrary to your belief, the rest of the world is not so ignorant when it comes to magic or the people that can perform it. There are several universities in the United States alone that have programs that specialize in the arcane: from prophecies to lycanthropy to communicating with the dead to—"

"What does being a businessman have to do with the fact that you know so much about werewolves?" Sirius interrupted.

Phil's mouth tightened in anger. He absolutely despised it whenever someone interrupted him when he was talking; he was used to people listening to him when he spoke. _Does he think I **enjoy** waggling my tongue between my teeth?_ He thought, annoyed. _I used to command armies! Who does this arrogant puppy think he is?_

"Considering the fact that I employ a great many people around the world?" he returned, arching an eyebrow at Sirius in subtle mockery. "I traveled the globe in my youth and I learned much about the different peoples that inhabit our beautiful planet. Werewolves are a European monster and have existed for millennia; no one alive today truly knows how they came into being but there are many theories. The Lupine and Lupina live in the northwestern United States very close to the Canadian border."

"I've never heard of them," Remus murmured.

"That does not surprise me," Phil drawled, "considering how little you actually know about your own kind. The Lupine and his Lupina are equivalent in standing to Queen Titania of the Summer Court; they are considered royalty although they do not wear a crown nor do they govern from a throne. They govern not only the North American werewolves but every other werewolf that lives on this planet."

"That's highly unlikely, Phil. How could they oversee werewolves that live outside of their jurisdiction?"

"With representatives, to begin with, and the Lupine and Lupina hold council every year with the Alphas and their mates of every pack," he explained. "The werewolves live by a strict set of laws that even Queen Titania admires them for."

"You've mentioned Titania several times now, Phil," Mr. Granger spoke up then. "Are you a member of her court?"

Phil's long, slender fingers gracefully covered his mouth as his lips stretched in a genuine smile that would have revealed his fangs. Schooling his expression once again, Phil replied, "The technical answer to your question, Mr. Granger, is no but she and I have been friends now for many years."

"Phil is one of her closest allies," Sarai said. "Although he and I only met during our sons' Fourth year, the Queen would often speak very highly of him and seek out his council on important matters."

Philip respectfully inclined his head toward his sister-in-law.

"Yes," Mr. Granger nodded. "I do remember Hermione telling us about that at some point. This was during the Triwizard Tournament, where Harry was entered as the Fourth Champion, am I correct?"

"You are, indeed, correct," Sev said, turning away from Toria and glaring down at her sternly when she fidgeted excitedly in her seat. "His name was entered in to the Cup by one of Voldemort's loyalist followers in order to bring about his resurrection."

"And this is where the final battle took place?"

"Final battle," Sev muttered, unable to keep from snorting with derision. "What a ridiculous notion." Louder, he said, "Yes, this was where Voldemort was brought to justice before the Queen for the crimes he had committed against her."

"It seems like this Voldemort was a pretty nasty fellow," Mrs. Granger murmured. She and her husband had heard about Lord Voldemort through Hermione but neither of them could fully comprehend the threat that he had posed what with both of them being born non-magical.

"You have no idea," Sirius solemnly agreed with her.

"What on earth could have caused him to gain so much power and influence?" Mrs. Granger asked. She had heard about the first wizarding war thanks to her daughter and even through reading some of the magical texts Hermione would sometimes forget at home but she hadn't experienced it firsthand.

"He promised equality to the minority groups that live here in England," Remus surprised everyone with his answer. "Speaking as a member of such a minority I can tell you honestly that his promises were sorely tempting."

Sirius lowered his gaze, refusing to meet his friend's eye.

"Would he have remained true to his word?"

"No." Severus shook his head. "Voldemort cared nothing for the rights of others. He wanted only to rule over us all. That didn't stop him from making promises he had no intention of keeping. Once he had control of England, with his Death Eaters by his side, he would have easily been able to eradicate those opposing him."

"Without Severus's help, we never would have been able to save the lives that we did," Remus praised his co-worker and fellow Order member.

No one saw Phil's eyes shift to a bloody crimson.

"Don't forget that, thanks to Wormtail, Voldemort was aware of the fact that we knew what he was planning. In the later years of the war, most of the attacks were diversions while he and the closest members of his inner circle were in a different part of the country," Sirius said.

"No one suspected a mole?" Mr. Granger demanded. And, when most of the wizards and witches sitting at the table looked at him blankly he elaborated, "Spy. None of you suspected that there might be a spy in your midst?"

"We never thought of the possibility, I'm ashamed to admit," Mr. Weasley answered. "It never occurred to us that one of us would betray their own."

"James and I thought it was Remus," Sirius reluctantly admitted. "I never thought it would be Peter."

"Usually it's the person you least expect," Severus said. "And that's what makes them such an excellent spy."

"No one suspected you of being a spy, Severus?" Sirius asked him archly.

"I was very careful," the dark wizard said silkily. "It didn't mean that suspicion hadn't fallen on me before, of course, but what really gave me away was when I refused to torture and rape a little Muggle girl. It was 12 years after Voldemort's downfall and Lucius and McNair had invited me out for an evening of sport. I let my guard down and reacted with my true feelings instead of playing the part I was assigned. That was how they discovered me and I had no choice but to go to ground, as they say, so I decided to hide with Petunia Dursley and her nephew, one Harry Potter.

"And the rest is history."

"I'm just glad that he's gone," Mrs. Weasley said. "I think you and your family deserve a reprieve from saving the world, Severus, don't you agree?"

Severus raised his glass toward her and then sipped in silent agreement.

Meanwhile, further down the table, Harry, Ron and his brothers and Dudley were discussing the Quidditch World Cup.

"Can you believe it, Harry?" Ron cried excitedly. "The Quidditch World Cup!"

Harry grinned at his best friend. "But you've been to the Quidditch World Cup before."

"Yeah but that was Ireland versus Bulgaria. This is Canada versus America!"

"There's a difference?" he asked, arching an eyebrow in a similar fashion to his father.

"I hear there's major rivalry between the two countries," Bill put in helpfully. "The Canadians have never made it to the finals before. The Americans played for the Cup once but they lost to Denmark and that was nearly 100 years ago."

"What do you think Dudley?" Ron asked him.

Although Dudley couldn't fly on a broom like his cousin, he had watched several Quidditch matches at Hogwarts over the past three years and knew what the sport was about. He enjoyed the game and had taken the time to learn more about it; he was as familiar with it as Harry and Ron were and the three of them would often spend hours going over the match.

"I dunno," he said slowly. "The Canadians have a pretty good team. Steinbeck is a damn fine flyer and one of the best Chasers in all of North America but the Americans have got White and Adams, two very fine Beaters, _and_ Joanna Romanov is one of the youngest Seekers to have ever made it to a national team. And she's a woman."

"Women tend to make the best Seekers," Charlie pointed out. "They're usually lighter and faster than your average male Quidditch player."

"Mm hmm," Harry murmured absentmindedly for at the mention of female Quidditch players, his eyes had drifted over to Katie.

She sat beside him, her knee gently brushing against his thigh, with Hermione on her other side. Today, in honour of Harry's graduation, she wore a set of aqua-coloured robes set with gold trim along the cuffs of her sleeves and collar with a knee-length white skirt and a blue shirt that flared around her bust and then tapered in toward her middle before flowing halfway down her thighs. The necklace of blue pearls – a gift to her from Harry for her birthday – matched the shade of her shirt perfectly. He lifted a hand and tucked a loose strand of dark blond hair, more the colour of molten gold than a honey amber, behind her ear. His fingers snagged at the coils atop her head: he preferred her hair wild and free about her shoulders, uncontrolled and untamed, like the seabirds that he often saw flying above the waves at her home near the sea.

She would never share his stepmother's petite frame (Sarai was inhumanly beautiful, her body in perfect harmony, her limbs the perfect length for her height, her skin seemingly made of porcelain, her hair so black that it gleamed with blue highlights) but, while Katie wasn't skinny, neither was she incredibly obese. She was slender, her skin deliciously tanned from living a life out in the sun and sailing the sea with her father and sister. On her broom she transformed into a cheetah, lithe and graceful and quick as lightning, speeding down the pitch with the Quaffle tucked securely under her arm and scoring a goal before the defending Keeper could react.

Ron rolled his eyes but Dudley couldn't hold back a quiet smile.

"When is it you begin training with the Chudley Canons, Ron?" he asked him. "Would it interfere with you being able to attend the Quidditch World Cup?"

"I don't think so," he answered, shaking his head. "The Canons didn't make it to the finals this year. Although I've agreed to play for them, I haven't signed the contract yet and both my agent and the manager of the Canons has to be there in order to witness and sign it too. He's supposed to send me a time and date sometime next week."

"Maybe with you on their team they'll finally have a chance at the World Cup, eh, little bro?" Fred teased him with twinkling blue eyes.

The tips of Ron's ears turned red. "Shove off, Fred."

"What about you two?" Dudley said, turning to the twin redheads. "Harry told me that the two of you are in the process of creating some really neat joke products."

"He'd be right, mate," George said amiably. At first, the twins had not known how to feel about Harry's cousin, someone who used to torment him for the sheer pleasure of it, and had been somewhat wary of him. Although they did not know each other well, they knew that Dudley really had changed for the better and they managed to get along relatively well with one another. "Although we've been sworn to secrecy for the time being because old man Zonko wants to test them out a little bit longer before selling them on the market."

"You can't even give us a hint?" Ron needled.

Fred shook his head. "No way, little bro. It would mean our heads if Zonko ever found out."

"We wouldn't _tell_," Dudley pleaded. "C'mon. Just a hint. Please?"

Fred and George looked at each other.

"Should we?"

"Might as well."

"We'll never hear—"

"—the end of it, otherwise."

"Alright!" Ron and Dudley cried.

"George and I have developed a special powder that'll transform a person into an animal," Fred said.

"Temporarily, of course," George added with a wink.

"What's the use in that?" Dudley asked.

"My dear Dudley," Fred began with a mocking lilt to his voice, "there are many uses! Why you could turn a teach into a cockroach if you find them particularly annoying—"

"Or listen in on your neighbours, them being none the wiser—"

"The options are endless," one of the twins concluded.

Dudley chuckled. "Maybe but I certainly don't see any use for it especially since Siri can turn into a dog at will. And it looks like Lyra might have inherited that ability as well."

Harry turned around to stare at his cousin, open-mouthed. "What?"

"Mum and I think that Lyra might have inherited Siri's ability to shift." Dudley looked slightly uncomfortable as Ron, Fred, George, Charlie and Bill turned to stare at him too. "Siri noticed that one day while she was playing with Toria and Cafall she had a tail and ears. He thought someone'd pranked her. Mum nearly lost it when she saw Lyra."

"And?" Harry prompted. "What does Uncle Sirius think?"

"Siri thinks that she'll be able to shift before the end of the summer. Whenever she sees him do it, she copies him and she changes a little more every time."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Ron asked.

"It's different if you're born an Animagus; at least, that's why Siri says. He says that it's natural as breathing to him."

"That's amazing, Dud," Harry murmured, awed. "I think it was Professor McGonagall who was the last naturally born Animagus?"

Dudley shook his head. "I don't know. Mum's happy just as long as Lyra doesn't hurt herself and Siri told me that on rare occasions it can go wrong. But with Siri and Moony watching, that's unlikely."

Harry and Ron couldn't quite hold back their chortles of amusement. Neither of them would have expected Moony to become a godfather two years ago or for Sirius to marry Petunia. Both Marauders absolutely doted on the little girl and she had them wrapped around her little finger.

Ron turned to Harry and whispered, "I was just wondering but has your uncle told—"

"No," he cut his friend off quickly. "He hasn't, Ron."

"Oh," he mumbled. "Okay."

Harry glanced down the length of the table and saw Phil helping Julie to her feet, an arm wrapped around her waist to steady her.

"We'll see you tomorrow morning, then?" he asked his father.

"Tomorrow morning," Severus nodded. "My chambers."

Bidding farewell to the others, Phil and Julie left for their guest quarters at Hogwarts, their mischievous twins in tow.

_Later:_

Severus and Sarai strolled hand-in-hand down the main street of Hogsmeade village, blessedly quiet at this late hour, simply enjoying each other's company. Holding her hand, his thumb caressing the smooth skin of her knuckles, still had the power to excite him, making his heart race and his blood boil. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them needed too.

Everyone had retired to Hogwarts after an eventful day and a long evening filled with delicious food and wonderful company. Phil, to none of his immediate family's surprise, had footed the bill.

Sev and Sarai turned off the main road and down the gravel path that would lead them back to Hogwarts.

"I still can't believe it," Sev murmured.

Without breaking her stride, Sarai tilted her head up toward her husband and met his gaze with her own. She squeezed his hand. "I don't think that Harry and Draco are in any hurry to move out, Sev. Draco has three years before Ollivander will send him around the world in search of wand cores and Harry will be attending university not too far from Hogwarts. Both of them know how to Apparate and I doubt they'll break all ties with us once the summer ends and they begin their journey into adulthood."

Severus stopped and turned to face his petite wife, gently dropping hold of her fingers so that he could wrap his arms around her slender waist. He pulled her forward until her body pressed against his. He lowered his head and his mouth caught hers in a tender kiss that conveyed all the love and sadness that he could feel trapped inside his heart. It was a most elegant sorrow because, while he was sad at the thought of his sons moving on with their lives, he also knew that it was a natural part of growing up and he could not be happier for his boys. That did not stop a few silent tears from rolling down his cheeks; Sarai gently wiped them away.

They tenderly broke apart. Sarai's hair shone with hints of silver from the moonlight. A warm breeze caused the leaves on the trees to sway gently back and forth, rustling like a woman's skirts, and they watched as fireflies darted in and out of their branches. Crickets chirped a quiet symphony while the frogs croaked and ribbited an encore. They heard the soft brush of birds' wings as the school's owls prepared for a night of hunting mice and voles and any other little rodents they could find. They heard the occasional splash as a fish (or perhaps a mermaid) disturbed the still surface of the Black Lake. They could smell the sweet scent of blooming flowers mingling with the damp earth.

Tomorrow would awaken a new day but Severus couldn't help feeling that it would also mean the end of a very long adventure. He never imagined how much his life would have changed from the simple discovery that Lily had left him a most precious gift but it had; now, his life was changing again. His sons had grown up. They no longer looked to their father for aid but turned to their lovely ladies or their friends; over the past year both Harry and Draco had grown increasingly distant with him and Sarai, no longer spending their weekends in his quarters or desiring his company. They continued to value Nesmay as their sister but even _she_ was starting to become an independent young woman. She was more confident in herself as a maturing woman and as a princess of the royal house of Summer; she was also more confident in her abilities as a witch and she rarely, if ever, lost control of her magic. She, too, spent most of her time with Luna and Ginny and rarely with her adoptive parents although she adored Toria and never refused to watch her if asked.

Nesmay planned to finish her years at Hogwarts but, unlike her brothers, she did not plan to remain the rest of her life in the World Beyond. She wished to return to the Faerie Realms to see her grandmother. Severus could imagine her dressed in elven finery, attending one of the Queen's many galas, and no one would recognize the young woman as anything but a member of the royal family. Tears of pride and of fatherly love stung his eyes. He refused to cry. He just hoped that she would allow him the honour of walking her down the aisle should she choose to marry in human fashion or that she would dance with him in the traditional fae custom.

_My little Dragon … My little Phoenix … My little Princess …_ he thought, his heart aching terribly in his chest. _My children, I could not be prouder of you than I am right now._

Sarai smiled at him and in her own eyes he saw a beautiful pain reflected there as well. Taking her hand in his once more, he pressed a tender kiss to her fingertips and they resumed their walk down the gravel path toward Hogwarts and a brand new adventure.

As they entered the Entrance Hall the two of them were very surprised to see Siren and Setus sitting at the top of the grand staircase.

"Hi Uncle Sev, hi Aunt Sarai," Siren greeted them when they stood before him and his twin.

"What in Merlin's name are you two doing?" Severus demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and peering down at the youngsters with his sternest glare – the one that still had the power to affect his adult sons to this very day. "Do your parents know you're wandering about Hogwarts all alone?"

Siren and Setus shared a look and both boys refused to meet their uncle's eyes. He frowned. He knew that the twins' sleep schedules were very different from that of Toria and Lyra. The two boys often napped during the peak hours of the day, from noon until four, and were quite active in the early evening until they began to settle down around midnight. With the hour drawing closer to midnight the little vampires should have started to feel sleepy and lethargic but they were wide awake. While Phil and Julie did not take their twins hunting with them, Julie would often spend the remaining hours of daylight going over their lessons and then they would move on to playing altogether in the darkness, the adults teaching their children to hone their senses and their skills.

The two little boys could see perfectly in the dark whether there were torches lit or not and would have no trouble exploring the school at night. They had frequented Hogwarts several times over the past four years and were comfortable wandering the castle on their own (not that Julie was okay with this but on the occasion when they did become lost an older student was always happy to lead them home).

"Well?" he pressed.

Siren peered up at Severus through his bangs, his violet eyes luminous in the darkened hall. Finally he whispered, "Papa and Mama are fighting."

Now it was Severus' turn to share a look with his wife. _Phil and Julie,_ he thought, _fighting?_ It seemed completely ridiculous; never, not once in the past four years that they had known the couple, had they ever heard of Phil and Julie arguing with one another. That in itself was a silly notion: everyone argued and, contrary to popular belief, Phil and Julie _weren't_ the perfect couple.

"Are you sure?" Sarai questioned him. It was not that she doubted their nephew, Severus knew; it was more that she was having trouble believing what he was telling them. She cast her husband a curious look and he caught her meaning without them having to exchange words. _What in Merlin's name could they be fighting about?_

Siren met her eyes calmly and said, "Yes. Mama and Papa weren't yelling or anything (because Mama doesn't yell) but Setus and I can still feel them even after they shield us from their emotions."

"What do you mean you could feel it? Is this somehow similar to the Mate Bond that your parents share?"

Siren nodded.

He did not need to elaborate for Severus and Sarai to understand what he meant. They knew all about the unique bond that existed between a Mated pair and it really didn't seem that farfetched that they shared a mental and emotional link with their children as well.

"Don't you two think that it's about time you returned to your quarters?" Sarai asked him tenderly. "I'm sure your parents would be worried sick if they discovered you missing."

Siren glanced over at his twin; Setus sat silently beside him with his head bowed low enough that no one could see his face.

"Setus?" Severus prompted.

The stillness with which the little boy sat sent tendrils of fear crawling down the Potion Master's back. Instincts, honed by his years as an abused child and by his life as a spy, clamored to the forefront of his brain, alarm bells ringing and warning him that here stood a predator as dangerous and natural as any lion or tiger that roamed the earth. Ordinarily Phil controlled his movements to trick their primitive brains into believing that he was not a threat but, on rare occasions, he would reveal himself with the fluidity of his stride or flashing of fangs. A young vampire like Setus should not have been able to send Severus into fight or flight mode; the fact that he _had_ revealed to him just how stressed he was.

Severus knelt, intending to comfort the child as he would his own sons, only to come up short when Siren placed himself between him and his brother.

"Don't, Uncle Sev," Siren warned him, sounding much mature than his eight years of age. "Setus will bite you if you touch him."

Most people would have laughed at the absurdity of such a statement but Sev and Sarai had been around Phil and Julie too long to understand that a vampire threatening to bite was no joke.

Severus drew back slowly for rapid movement would attract the attention of even a fledgling vampire.

"What's the matter, little one?"

"I don't know," Siren murmured. "Setus won't tell me. He won't talk to me."

Severus frowned. That was very unlike his nephew. Siren tended to be the quieter of the two boys; he was incredibly shy around people he did not know well and usually kept to himself even with his cousins, aunt and uncle. Setus was more rambunctious than his twin was and neither his parents nor Severus or Sarai knew where he'd inherited that trait from because both Phil and Julie were very reserved people. Severus suspected that as the boy grew older he would lose some of his wildness and become more like his father in personality because a rowdy vampire was a danger to everyone around him.

"Setus?" he queried, trying again to find out what was causing such strange behaviour in his nephew.

Siren stiffened, his enhanced senses allowing him to read the minute movements of his brother's body language, when Setus raised his head. Tears streamed unchecked down the little boy's cheeks and his violet eyes swirled with an emotional despair that no child his age should ever have to feel. His fangs had punctured his bottom lip causing blood to dribble down his quivering chin.

"Bright Lady," Sarai breathed. "What is the matter, childling?"

Setus' lips moved but even with their sharp ears they could not hear what the child was saying. Siren's face twisted in agony.

"Get Mama," he begged, tilting his head up to stare imploringly at Severus. "Please, Uncle Sev, get Mama. Setus needs Mama!"

Severus stared down at his nephew, torn. He did not feel at all comfortable about leaving the two boys unattended especially when one of them was so upset. His wife gently touched his arm and murmured, "Go, Sev. I'll stay here with the twins."

He nodded curtly and climbed the stairs and turned down the hall that would bring him to the guest wing of Hogwarts.

_Some twenty minutes later:_

Severus paused just inside the entryway of Phil and Julie's guest apartments. He could hear them talking heatedly to one another and if it hadn't been for the fae blood in his veins he never would have been able to listen in on their conversation. A pang of guilt shot through him. This was wrong. He was no longer a spy and had no need to listen in on other people's private conversations. It wasn't as if he planned on reporting his findings to Dumbledore. His lip curled at the thought. He would never betray his older brother in that way.

"I do not think that this is a good idea, Julie," Phil was saying. "I can understand you wanting to tell the Weasleys, after all, both Arthur and Molly are very accepting people, but Sirius and Remus are an entirely different matter. Sirius is a pureblood. He was raised to believe that witches and wizards are the elite members of society, above reproach, while any and every other race on this planet is considered inferior."

"But Sirius accepts Remus for who and what he is," Julie pointed out, "and he's married to Petunia. She hasn't a drop of magic in her veins and he accepts her just the way she is."

"Mm."

"What?"

"I don't doubt that Sirius loves Petunia and that she loves him," her husband agreed reluctantly. "I remember Sev telling me once that Petunia sometimes proved herself even feistier than Lily. She is strong-willed and determined and I think she provides Sirius with a real challenge."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"Do you remember when you and I first met, what century it was?" Phil murmured. "Men of that age sought to protect their women, like an elegant sword that is put on display above the mantle, to be seen and admired, but never handled without extreme care. Then there were those men that sought to break their women, to torture and destroy them because there is no greater feeling of power than for a man to assert his dominance over what he claims as his." His voice softened when next he spoke and Severus wondered what could cause such a change in the master vampire's tone. "And, finally, there are those types of men that enjoy a challenge, a woman with a fiery spirit, a woman who refuses to break no matter what she has endured, a woman who demands – she does not ask – to be equal to her husband.

"I believe that Petunia is a fiery woman. Vernon tried to beat her down, tried to dominate and quench that incredible spirit of hers and he tried to break her but he did not succeed. I would have killed him for that alone. Sirius is the type of man that needs an independent woman, a woman who will present him with a new challenge each and every day, like Sarai does Sev," he continued. "I believe that Sirius could have potentially become someone like Vernon had he chosen a meek mannered woman."

It was a pretty harsh statement coming from the vampire, Severus knew, but there was a ring of truth to his words. Severus remembered his years at Hogwarts vividly. The memories no longer filled his heart with malicious hatred or bitter regret as they once had; he could even look back on his time with Lily fondly even if a small corner of his heart still ached with the loss of his first love. He would never be able to forget, though, how the Marauders had tormented him. He may not have been their only victim, for James and Sirius loved to bully anyone different from them, but he had most definitely been their favourite. Sometimes, the Marauders would even target a younger student and harass them. Sirius enjoyed targeting one of their year mates, a plump girl, in Hufflepuff and driving her to tears simply because she had stood up to him for being mean to Severus.

Severus could read between the lines and understood Philip's concern: he was worried about Julie. She did not share the independence that Sarai and Petunia craved nor did she possess a fiery spirit that would allow her to stand up for herself if provoked. Both he and Sarai suspected that the female vampire had been mistreated at some point in her life but she would always avoid answering any direct questions and Phil would become dangerously silent. She would be easy prey to someone like Sirius who enjoyed intimidating those he considered weaker than himself. More than that, though, Sirius loved to secretly chisel away at a woman's self-worth until, in Seventh year, a classmate he enjoyed harassing had attempted to commit suicide.

_That will **not** happen, _Severus thought furiously. He wouldn't allow Sirius to return to his heathen ways. There might be some degree of respect between the two of them now and Severus may have let go of the past in order for his son to form a relationship with the ex-convict but he would throw that all aside to protect a woman as dear to him as a sister.

"What about Remus?" Julie asked.

"What about him?"

Severus heard Philip sigh which must have meant that she had given her husband a _look._

"That _wolf_," the vampire spat, "is a spineless, yellow-bellied, lily-livered coward. He believes himself to be above reproach with the Ministry of Magic simply because of the fact that Dumbledore will vouch for him if another incident like what happened with the Shrieking Shack should ever occur again."

"Would Dumbledore do such a thing?"

"Yes, he would," Phil answered coldly. "In 1976 Sirius thought it would be funny to play a practical joke on Severus and sent him down to the Shrieking Shack where Remus would transform every full moon."

"By God …"

"It did not end well," he growled. "Remus attacked Severus. The only reason Severus survived was because James heard about what Sirius had done and raced down to the Whomping Willow to save him. While no one was bitten, thank heaven, Remus managed to scratch Severus pretty badly and from what I hear was forced to spend a week in the Hospital Wing. Instead of reporting the attack to the proper authorities Dumbledore kept mum and the Marauders were left unpunished while Severus was forced to serve a month long detention."

"It's no wonder Remus thinks that he can get away with murder," Julie murmured and Severus' eyes widened at the venom in her voice on his account. "Damn it, Philip," she whispered. "We knew about Andrew and Tobias, about the history they shared, what caused the two of them to have a falling out with one another. I wish we could have saved Severus from his wretched father. I wish we could have saved him from the Marauders."

"It would have placed you and Alice at risk," Phil snapped. "I will _not_ apologize for protecting you."

"I'm not asking you to apologize," she whispered and Severus could hear the threat of tears in her voice. "I'm just saying that I regret being unable to save Severus from the horrible childhood he had."

"His childhood was terrible, yes, but it could have been much worse," Phil murmured. "Don't cry, my Wildfire. You know I so hate to see you cry. From what little Sev has told me his childhood wasn't as terrible as it could have been considering the type of man his father was. He had Lily and Petunia and I know that his mother helped him whenever she could."

"Why is life so cruel to those most deserving of love and acceptance?" she asked and Severus' throat clogged at the knowledge that she was shedding tears for _him_. It should not have surprised him; Julie was an incredibly kind and compassionate woman and she was more likely to cry than to throw herself into a temper like Sarai and Petunia did when they became angry with their men. "Severus did not deserve to endure those years of hatred from his father and then be subjected to torture from the Marauders. Harry did not deserve to be abandoned on his aunt's doorstep and spend his childhood living as little more than a slave. Draco did not deserve to have to fight for his father's attention or affection."

"You can't change all the wrongs in this world by yourself," Phil said softly. "And things turned out alright for them in the end. Sev, Harry and Draco found the love and security that each of them yearned for and are now part of a happy family. How many people can say that they chose their family, hmm?"

She made a sound, something between a laugh and sob.

"No more tears," Phil growled. "Promise me, Julie. No more tears."

"In a minute," she breathed, her breath hitching on a sob. "Let me dream for just a moment longer what might have been if I hadn't been staked and my babies had survived."

"Just a minute more," her husband agreed.

Guilt tightened the muscles in Severus' belly. Now he really regretted listening in on them; it may not have been intimate in a romantic sense but it most definitely had been a moment meant for the two of them.

"It's impolite to eavesdrop, Sev."

The Potions Master started at the sound of Phil's voice and ducked his head contritely when he saw the vampire leaning casually against the other wall.

"How'd you know…?"

"I can hear the sound of your heart beating," the vampire answered. "I knew the moment you stepped foot inside our quarters."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"Sev, if I hadn't wanted you to hear what I was talking about, I would have greeted you, spoken with Julie telepathically or even spoken in a different language to keep you from understanding what I was saying. Eavesdropping isn't an ordinary habit of yours. Well, it hasn't been since your cover as a spy for the Order was blown and that was four years ago. What brings you here? Especially at this late hour?"

"Sarai and I found Siren and Setus in the Entrance Hall. Siren is worried about Setus and asked for Julie specifically," Sev explained in a rush.

"Then what are waiting for?" the vampiress demanded. Philip instinctively held a hand out toward her and then lifted her into his arms because even Severus could see her trembling with exhaustion on her own two feet. "Let's go."

_Fifteen minutes later:_

Julie never could stand the sight of a child in tears and the fact that the one sitting so forlornly on the top step of the grand staircase was her own son nearly sent her to her knees. Siren and Setus rarely cried even when they had been but tiny babes. Her twins shared a natural curiosity about the world in which they lived, both magical and non-magical, and enjoyed the stories their father would tell them as a knight to Queen Elizabeth I and an ally of Titania (the Summer Queen _was_ their godmother after all). Setus was thrill seeker, like his father, and would often wander the forest that surrounded Snape Manor unaccompanied and much to his mother's annoyance; he loved to explore and was always willing to try something new.

She brushed against the familial bond that they shared and it hurt her a great deal when he pulled away from her, raising his shields to protect his thoughts from her. (It wasn't Occlumency.) She glanced over at Phil, biting her lip. She could feel her son's pain as if it were her own. (Only when Siren and Setus matured into adult vampires would the bonds they shared with their parents dampen. It would never die, because blood bound them, but it would grant them another form of independence that every fledgling vampire experienced when they severed ties with the ones who had Sired/Blooded them.) For now, though, she would not allow Setus to pull away from her when he clearly needed her reassurance.

Moving slowly, because her bones hurt, she sat down on the top step beside him and reached over for him, pulling him against her side, sheltering him, offering him comfort. His arms wrapped around her waist and he buried his face in her breast, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. She pressed a kiss to his head, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his back.

"Hush, now, baby boy," she crooned. "Mama's here. I'm here."

"It's my fault." He spoke so softly that for half a moment Julie thought she hadn't heard him but then Setus' arms tightened around her and he hissed, "It's my fault you nearly died, Mama. It's my fault."

Her eyes widened at the emotion that suddenly shot through her like water bursting through a concrete wall. And then she understood.

"Oh, Setus," she breathed, her arms tightening around him, "silly child, what happened to me was _not_ your fault."

She felt the subtle shift in air currents and glanced up in time to see Philip kneel in front of her, his right hand resting on her knee and the other he placed against their son's back. Setus flinched, refusing to even look at his father, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His tiny fangs grazed her skin but he did not bite.

"Setus, won't you look at me, son?" Phil asked.

"You're gonna hate me," he whispered.

"For what," his father returned gently, "for being jealous of the fact that your mother was pregnant?"

Setus stiffened.

"That's normal, sweetheart," Julie whispered. "I promise you, it's normal for children to be jealous of their siblings, to even wish something bad might happen so that their parents don't end up dividing their attention between them. I was incredibly jealous of my younger siblings and I know your father was of his sister Eleanor."

"We are not angry," Phil added gently, lifting a hand to run his fingers through the back of his son's hair. "And what have I told you about wishes? Only a djinn grants wishes and they are incredibly rare. You would not just happen upon a djinn at the local grocery store."

He smiled when Julie snorted and even Setus made a quiet sound of amusement.

"Your father and I could never hate you," she soothed.

"We love you too much," he agreed.

Setus pulled back from his mother just enough to meet his parents' eyes. "Do you promise?"

Both parents flooded the bond they shared with their sons with the unconditional love they felt for each of them.

"Of course we promise," Julie gasped, tears springing to her eyes.

Phil nodded mutely.

"And – and what the babies Mama was gonna have?"

"The bolt that pierced your mother's belly killed your baby brothers or sisters," his father whispered.

"'m sorry, Mama," Setus mumbled. "'s my fault."

"No, son," Phil growled. "It is _not_ your fault. It is the person that staked her who is at fault."

Setus stared uncertainly between his parents and Julie decided to take action into her own hands and _prove_ to her son that this was not his fault. Cupping the back of his head, she pushed him down until his lips touched her throat – an open invitation. Ordinarily, she rarely offered blood to her sons or even Phil in the presence of mortal company because it made both of them uncomfortable but her son needed the reassurance and she would never deny him that. His tiny fangs pierced her skin and she almost sagged as he drained the last reserves of strength from her.

After he had finished feeding, he wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her cheek. "I love you, Mama," he whispered.

"And I love you, baby boy."

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

The quarter moon reflected on the still surface of the Black Lake and several dozen floating candles hovered in the boughs of the trees overlooking its edge. Their tiny flames flickered, golden light spreading outward to create small rings of radiance in the darkness that surrounded Hogwarts and her grounds. Up above in a velvet sky of midnight blue billions of stars twinkled mockingly at the world below, their light sparkling white and pure.

Philip and Julie stood upon the lake's shore, water gently lapping up and over their bare feet. The sand warmed her cold toes, the granules still hot long after the sun's life-giving rays retreated beyond the horizon. The glow from the moon and the flickering flames of the candles created a shimmering aura of light around the two vampires. Their hair billowed behind them in a gentle breeze, black twining with brown, the individual strands shining gold or silver. Simply dressed, both of them wore black; the colour contrasted beautifully with their unnaturally white skin.

Julie leaned heavily against her husband and her body shook with stress; her knees bent and Phil caught her before she could fall face-first into the dark waters of the lake. The water soaked the hem of her dress when she bent down and tenderly picked up the branch of a cherry tree covered in freshly blooming flowers. She turned to glance over her shoulder and Sarai saw the tears streaming silently down her pale cheeks and throat. Beside her, Phil gently picked up a similar branch to the one that Julie held in her hand.

Husband and wife lifted the branches high over their heads and then brought them together to form a shield or an X. Julie's branch trembled almost violently before she pulled it close to her breast; Phil mirrored her. Then with shaking fingers she gently pulled one of the pink blossoms from the branch, raised it to her lips and pressed a tender kiss to its petals. Cupping her palms around the tiny flower, she blew upon it and the wind carried it to land on the shimmering surface of the lake. She proceeded to do this with two more of the branch's flowers until only three remained.

"I will remember," she murmured, her gaze upon the three floating cherry blossoms bobbing cordially along. "I will cherish and enjoy every thought of you that comes across my mind and my heart will heal."

Phil mirrored her exactly, gently picking three flowers, kissing them and blowing them from his palm. And then he turned to his wife, picked two of the three remaining flowers and twined them into her hair. His fingers stroked lovingly across her jaw, his thumb smoothing away one of her many tears.

"I will remember," he vowed. "I will remember what could have been and I will remember what can someday be again. I will love you more and more every passing year and, together, our hearts will heal."

And Phil lowered his head, his lips brushing against his wife's, sealing his solemn promise with a kiss full of tenderness, sorrow and love.

**Edited January 2016**

**Author's notes:** Thank you for reading!

**Next:** How will the others react to the fact that Phil and Julie are vampires?


	4. Clash

Chapter 4: Clash

He did not sleep for the remainder of the night. How could he, when the thoughts plaguing his mind would not allow him to rest?

He sat upon the window's seat, silver moonlight illuminating half of his face and bleaching his black hair white. He stared up into the night sky, his far-reaching sight allowing him to see things that no mortal ever could; not even his mate was gifted with this ability. He was not a Seer; they were incredibly rare and often hid themselves away from magical and non-magical beings alike because most, like Albus Dumbledore for example, sought to use their power for their own designs. He could sometimes glimpse the future but he preferred not dabble in the arcane art of divination (_true_ divination, not the pathetic lessons taught to students by Sybil Trelawney). He did not enjoy the thought of his visions of the future influencing him in the present.

He swung his head away from the window and lowered his eyes until he could watch his mate sleeping peacefully upon their bed, Siren and Setus curled up on either side of her. Such deep emotion overwhelmed him that, for a moment, his eyes stung with the threat of blood tears and his undead heart ached.

_I could have lost her,_ he thought numbly.

He hadn't truly realized how close his Wildfire had come to death last night and, now, that he had a moment to reflect and think, he started to tremble with the realization. Every immortal being, whether it be a werewolf, a mermaid or a vampire, experienced and passed through death shedding their mortality in order to become immortal. Although magical beings – such as him – were incredibly hard to kill, it _was_ possible but, if he died, there would no rebirth this time. His hands began to shake violently and he was dimly aware of his lips pulling back in a feral snarl that revealed his fangs and of his eyes shifting to a bright, hellish red. She would not have come back to him. Instead, her soul would have entered the Kingdom of Heaven. Leaving him alone.

He flinched when he heard several sharp _cracks_ and swung around to stare angrily at the window. Several thin cracks had appeared in the glass. His eyes blazed.

_Damn it all,_ he silently cursed.

He could not afford to lose control. Not now. But remembering his mate weakened and defenseless awoke every protective instinct he possessed. He wanted to hide her and their sons away where no one would ever think to look for them but he feared that one of Maeve's spies had infiltrated Titania's court and would easily be able to locate them in the Summer Palace. He knew that if he asked her for her help, Titania and her Blades would guard his family with their dying breaths.

The _only_ reason he had not done so before now was because he knew how both women would react to the situation. Julie was jealous of his relationship with Titania. Unlike Elizabeth, whom she had developed a very close relationship with and considered more of a sister than a sovereign, Titania made Julie feel uncomfortable because she did not approve of her being his mate. She had expected him to mate his traveling companion of over a century who was both warrior maiden and the diplomat of a long forgotten nation, Ophelia. Titania had never quite forgiven him for choosing Julie instead of Ophelia. It hurt him deeply that his best friend did not approve of the woman he loved but he pretended ignorance because both women behaved civilly to one another as decorum dictated a queen should treat a noblewoman of Julie's station.

He exhaled loudly, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his hair agitatedly.

_Four hundred years,_ he thought. _Four hundred years is a very long time to be with someone._

She had been eighteen when he had met her for the very first time, a fledgling vampire, she confused and terrified about the powers she now possessed and of the captain of the queen's guards. She had grown up to become a proper noblewoman, knowing where she stood within society and accepting the fact of her position as little more than an ornament for her husband to show off to his aristocratic friends. Her stepfather had even arranged for her to marry the prestigious Lord Nathaniel Coutre, Commander of the queen's naval fleet and over a decade her senior. The marriage was to augment her family's status within society and further Lord Coutre's standing with the queen.

_Lord Coutre._

Philip had met the man several times during the years he had faithfully served Queen Elizabeth; thankfully, their meetings had not only been brief but few and far between. He despised Nathaniel Coutre. Whenever the man was in the presence of their queen or any other woman for that matter, he found himself tightly gripping the hilt of his sword and his fangs tingled with the desire to draw blood. Nathaniel enjoyed beating his male slaves without the slightest of provocation and he especially enjoyed raping their sisters and daughters to teach them the consequences of disobeying one of his direct orders. He did not prove any gentler with his female servants and they cowered in fear of him. The queen knew of his inexcusable behaviour but she could do nothing to protect his slaves or his servants; society regarded them as little more than animals and treated them as such. She could do nothing to protect his soon-to-be wife for, although she was noble born, Julie was still a woman and would therefore be at the mercy of her husband.

Sev and Sarai suspected that Julie had been mistreated at some point in her life and they questioned him about it but absolutely refused to answer them. It was entirely up to Julie whether or not she wanted to tell them about her past; he would not betray her by discussing such a sensitive topic with Sev or Sarai, no matter how much he loved and trusted them.

Clouds drifted across the sky, obscuring the moon and stars and plunging the room into complete darkness. He did not mind. Even with no light, he could see perfectly in the dark.

The blankets rustled quietly as Julie stirred in her bed, her arms instinctively tightening around each of sleeping child, and her eyes opened, glowing eerily in the dark.

"What time is it?" she asked him, her voice husky with exhaustion.

"Not yet dawn," he murmured, striding over to sit on the bed beside her and lifting a hand to tenderly stroke her cheek. "You should be sleeping still. We have to meet Severus in a few hours' time."

Her lashes lowered weakly. "Have you slept at all?"

"No," he told her honestly. "I have far too much on mind."

"What are you thinking about?"

He smiled. What a strange question for her to ask! The two of them shared such a strong mental connection that they were always aware of what the other was thinking. Her exhaustion and the fact that he had erected a shield around his thoughts in order to prevent her from waking must have dampened their bond.

"Nothing in particular," he answered.

"Liar," she breathed.

He laughed softly. "I'm thinking mainly about you but I'm also thinking about the twins and the attack the other night. I'm also thinking about Sirius and Remus's reactions to the fact that we're vampires."

"It bothers you this much?"

"How can it not?" he returned gently. "Sirius is unpredictable at the best of times. Yes, I know that he accepts Remus for being a werewolf but …"

"This isn't the same?" she ventured.

"Sirius is already jealous of the fact that I was able to help Harry during the Triwizard Tournament and he was not," he pointed out. "I wouldn't put it past him to be jealous of the fact that Harry knew about us being vampires and he did not."

She frowned at him. "Do you think he would try to play favourites with Harry?"

"He might try although Harry isn't one to play favourites with his relatives. He loves Sirius. I don't want to be responsible for ruining his relationship with his godfather _or_ Remus."

"And why would our being vampires be responsible for ruining that relationship?"

"Humans are petty," he said. "I wouldn't put it past him just because Sirius is like that."

"I'm still of the opinion that we should tell them," she whispered.

"You would be," he muttered.

"Philip, I know that you're afraid, especially after what happened to us the other night. But you're the one who taught me that we can't live in fear or it will rule us for the rest of our lives." She stared up at him, her hazel eyes capturing his violet ones and refusing to allow him to look away. "I've been afraid. Up until I met you, I spent my life living in fear. I may not be a warrior like you or Sev or Sarai but I refuse to live in fear ever again."

_My brave, brave Star,_ he thought, leaning forward to brush his lips against hers in a sweet kiss. _You have endured so much and come out stronger for it._

"Why is it," he whispered, his thumb stroking her jaw, "you are always right?"

She smiled at him, that shy, tender smile reserved just for him.

"Because you love me?"

"Hmm," he purred. "It must be because I love you."

He kissed her nose.

"Go back to sleep," he crooned. "I'll wake you when we have to meet Severus."

He stood up and walked back over to the window where the clouds had drifted away from the moon revealing it's near fullness. His hands clenched into fists at his sides.

_Perhaps,_ he thought, _perhaps it is time for me to claim what is rightfully mine._

Over the centuries he had walked the earth, Philip had made enemies. Lord Nathaniel Coutre had despised him for breaking the marriage contract that had existed between him and Julie; Philip had, unfortunately, killed him in front of his young mate. Maeve went without saying; he served Titania loyally and faithfully and he knew that there was no love lost between the two sibling monarchs. He could not, however, begin to guess as to who this new player was. The hunters associated with the Hunters Guild and Helsing would not dare cross him in such a way. For one thing, the vampire associated with Helsing had been Blooded by Philip himself almost a hundred years before he met his mate. Redthorn he had met on more than one occasion and he deeply respected the man. The hunters hired to kill him and his family had to be mercenaries, rogues for hire, but very few people were wealthy enough to afford their asking price – let alone the price it would cost them to hunt down an old vampire like himself.

He closed his eyes in an effort to stay the grief that threatened to consume him. Julie had been pregnant with twins. To have been blessed with two sets of twins was a rare thing amongst vampires. It only reaffirmed how much Phil and Julie loved one another. He couldn't restrain himself and had written to Sev as soon as she had told him the wonderful news. Of course, he had been deeply concerned for her because female vampires almost always miscarried in the first trimester. She had been pregnant twice before, with their first child and, years later, their twins, and she hadn't lost either baby and so Phil knew that the chances of her losing these two were slim.

He could feel the tears gathering beneath his lashes and he bit his lip until his fangs pierced them and he could taste blood on his tongue. For a moment, he reveled in the physical pain but it quickly dampened beneath the onslaught of grief. He lifted a hand, his fingers trembling, pressing his face into his palm. He held his breath but that could not stop the tears that slowly broke free of his control to roll down his cheeks.

For years he had dreamed of having a little girl that resembled her mother, with her long brown hair and her beautiful greenish brown eyes wide with curiosity. His shoulders shook with silent sobs as his grief slowly grew into a tsunami of uncontrollable emotion. He was unaware of his knees buckling or the fact that his fingers curled around the edge of the window seat. His oh-so-black hair fell in front of his face, shielding his eyes from view, but tears dripped from his lashes to leave bloody droplets on the backs of his hands.

His eyes flew open when a pair of slender arms gently pulled him down to rest against a heart that no longer and her fingers gently stroked through his long hair as her lips placed a kiss upon his head. He pressed his face into his mate's breast and he wept.

"We can try again, my love," she whispered, her voice soothing him, her fingers caressing the back of his head and behind his ears. "We can try again."

Philip shook his head, grimacing, clenching his eyes tightly shut. _Here,_ he thought, in the security of her embrace, _here I do not need to be strong._

As he was her knight in shining armour, she was his Star, twinkling in the sky above, guiding him home in a sea of despair that could so easily have dragged him down to the dark depths of madness. _She_ was his strength. She thought that he had rescued her from a terrible fate but he knew that it was the other way around; she had saved him from a life of loneliness and emptiness.

Together, they wept over the loss of their unborn children. Together, they would heal. And, together, they would overcome the evil setting out to destroy them.

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

Sirius woke early the next morning and he took a moment to simply enjoy the sensation of the silk sheets pulled up to his waist, his legs twined with Petunia's and her dark hair tickling his chin. He could smell the sweet scent of her lavender shampoo and her breath tickled his chest. His arm tightened around her waist possessively, territorially. (Sometimes he couldn't help himself; the canine instinct demanded that he impress upon the subordinate male of his pack that _he_ was alpha. It was never a truly conscious thought; more often than naught he only knew that he had behaved differently because Petunia stared at him strangely.)

His fingers trailed sensually up and down the length of her naked thigh. It still amazed him that he had fallen in love with a Muggle and not just any Muggle but Lily's sister no less. During his schooldays he had always considered Lily off limits because of how much James fancied her. Her friendship with Snivellus had annoyed the hell out of him; it only angered him further when he realized that she seemed to genuinely care about the wannabe Death Eater. James had clearly been a more appropriate suitor for a Muggleborn witch of Lily's standing: she was beautiful, intelligent and independent. The Pureblood wizard and Muggleborn witch would have made headline news throughout Wizarding Britain especially because it concerned eligible bachelor James Potter.

He paused, his fingers lingering on the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, when she shifted more comfortably against him but she did not stir. Lily had rarely spoken of her Muggle sister during her years at Hogwarts and hardly ever mentioned her even after the fact that she had married James. Sirius now understood that she had kept silent in order to protect Petunia from Voldemort; it had worked. No one, not even the Dark Lord himself, had known about Petunia and her relation to Lily.

Sirius could not believe that he had fallen for Lily's sister what with her being a Muggle at that. When Dumbledore had dropped Petunia and Dudley on his doorstep at Grimmauld Place, he'd wanted to throttle the ancient wizard. What did he know about Muggle women? Or raising children, for that matter? He learned quickly that Petunia had proved herself to be just as intelligent, just as independent and just as fiery as her redheaded sister in spite of the abuse she had suffered at the hands of her late husband. Admittedly, she had been wary of him at first and both adults had mainly kept to themselves and tried to avoid contact with one another. That worked only for so long. When Dudley had discovered Buckbeak hidden away in Sirius' room and had told Petunia about it, the wizard had learned very quickly that she despised animals of all kinds and had demanded the creature be removed at once. He thought it was that moment that he really started to fall for her.

He had never expected to like Dudley. From what little Harry had told him of his cousin, he was a bully and took great pleasure in tormenting the smaller boy. (It never occurred to Sirius that this was exactly what he had done with Severus.) He had been ready to despise the boy simply because he had tormented his godson and, while Dudley had been slightly arrogant and more than a little spoiled, his mother's strict but stern teachings had begun to rub off on him. Dudley proved himself a fast learner and eager to help his mother (of course, there had been times that the two of them had fought and Dudley reverted to old habits but that was to be expected). Sirius had found himself rapidly growing fond of the boy in a way that far surpassed his relationship with Harry.

He glanced down when Petunia finally stirred from her slumber.

"Good morning, dearest," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep and bearing just a little bit of a growl to it.

"Good morning," she returned. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," he answered and released his hand from her hip when she pushed the comforter over her knees. He rolled over on to his side, admiring her. She wore a pale yellow tank top that emphasized her tanned skin beautifully and a pair of matching plaid capris. (His Flower hated to wear nightgowns; she told him that Vernon had only ever preferred her to wear the cotton gowns that fell down to her ankles and restricted her movements.)

She turned around and a shaft of early morning sunlight streaming through the window caused her dark hair to glow with hints of amber and fire. The breath escaped his lungs in a whoosh of air and desire sank its talons into his gut. He did not blush. Petunia merely raised her eyebrows at him but he caught the amusement that lightened her eyes by several shades. At first, his continuous arousals had embarrassed him – he was a thirty year old man for Merlin's sake, not a horny teenager – but that had to do with the fact that he was a canine animagus. The canine instincts he possessed saw her as his mate (not that he would ever call her that; even thinking about the term caused him to cringe inwardly) and his body responded accordingly. He had feared that she would reject him; it would be much to ask a woman to accept that her husband could turn into a dog at will let alone the fact that canine instincts sometimes guided his actions. But she had. If he ignored his arousal, sometimes his erection would go away; other times, it wouldn't.

He flung the comforter back, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress and closed the distance between him and his wife. She laughed heartily when he spun her around in his arms, her back pressed against his chest, his hands holding hers and settling them on her abdomen. He lowered his head, nuzzling against her neck, before his teeth gently caught the lobe of her ear. He knew every inch of her luscious body and she could never resist him when he teased the sensitive spot right under the shell of her ear. Sometimes, if she was feeling frisky, she would let him play a little rougher with her going so far as him actually biting her.

With his bad boy image most people would assume that he was deeply into S&amp;M but they could not have been further from the truth. He had experimented with his sexuality as a younger man, during the later years of his education, and, while he enjoyed rough sex, it was relatively vanilla in comparison to sadomasochism. Very, very rarely could Petunia be talked into a threesome with him and Remus but it was known to happen on occasion. (And, surprisingly for him, he did not become jealous at the sight of the werewolf touching his wife in such an erotic way; it was quite the opposite in fact.)

"Sirius," she protested weakly, "we have to meet Sev down in his quarters in less than an hour. We don't have time …"

He allowed his voice to vibrate with the barest hint of a canine growl. "We'll make time."

He released one of her hands to trail his fingers sensually up and down the length of her forearm. Either she would submit to his desires or she would fight him until he relented. He silently hoped it would be the latter: he found his wife irresistible when she denied him.

His fingers trailed a little higher until he brushed her bare shoulder; they curled around the thin strap of her shirt and he pushed it down, lowering his head to press a kiss there. He opened his mouth, his teeth gently grazing, and nipped her playfully.

"Sirius!" she gasped.

"Shower with me, my Flower," he purred. "Let me wash your hair. Let me run my fingers through it. Let me lather you."

He had her. Petunia never could resist a shower with hot water drenching her back and steam fogging the mirrors.

"Damn it, Siri," she cursed but he could hear the amusement in her voice.

Laughing, Sirius lifted her into his arms and carried her in to their enormous bathroom.

_Thirty minutes later:_

It did not surprise him when he entered the main living area of his quarters and found Remus drinking a cup of strong coffee at the dining table having made himself right at home.

"You think this is a good idea, Moony?" he asked his friend as he sat down in the chair beside him. He did not even blink when a house-elf appeared and set down a tray laden with his favourite breakfast and a fresh cup of tea. Without blinking, he added some cream and a lump of sugar to his tea, blowing on the surface before sipping from it carefully; when it did not scald his tongue, he drank deeply.

"I have several vials of Wolfsbane in stasis and I've been drinking it every day," Remus answered. He accepted the platter of bacon that Sirius offered him readily enough and speared two sausages onto his plate. He drizzled maple syrup over top of them. "Everyone knows about my condition and, so long as no one enters my room on Wednesday once the moon has risen, everything should be fine."

Sirius eyed his friend curiously.

In their youth, during the week before the full moon, Remus would experience mood swings that would completely transform him into a different person. During that time, all three of them (for he no longer considered Peter as a friend or member of the Marauders) had been going through puberty and it had affected their animal instincts. It was the only time in his life where Sirius could actually remember Remus behaving aggressively. While his personality no longer changed dramatically as the moon approached full, he sometimes became irritable or depressed. The Wolfsbane Potion was supposed to help with the symptom but Sirius found that he'd noticed a slight change in Remus' behaviour over the past several months.

He greatly disliked Philip (and, yes, if he was being brutally honest with himself he could admit that he was deeply jealous of the other man) but he had brought up several interesting points during their dinner conversation last night. The Ministry hated werewolves and the only reason Remus was allowed to continue teaching at Hogwarts was because of Dumbledore defending him. No one knew how the Wolfsbane Potion actually worked and, although it couldn't cure lycanthropy, it was widely accepted that it allowed a werewolf to stay in control when they changed under the full moon. Sirius wasn't so sure that that was the case any longer.

"Is Philip right?" he demanded.

Remus glanced up from his meal and actually met Sirius' eyes. "About what?"

"About the Wolfsbane simply being an aid and not an actual solution to the problem of being a werewolf."

"How should I know?" his friend asked. "I've never met anyone other than Philip claiming that the Wolfsbane is only a tool and not a cure and the only other werewolf I know is Fenrir Grayback. There is no way in hell I am going to ask that man for anything."

Sirius flinched. He knew that Remus had been bitten at a very young age and well before attending Hogwarts and that the werewolf that had attacked him had been Grayback.

"I'm only asking because I'm concerned, Remus," Sirius murmured.

"There is nothing to be concerned about," the other man answered quietly. "I drink the Wolfsbane a week in advance of the full moon and a week after just as it was prescribed to me by Severus. I lock the door to my private chambers on that night and no one other than you and the Headmaster has access."

"Unless you and Sirius feel like taking a romp in the Forbidden Forest," Petunia said as she emerged from their bedroom. Today she wore a white skirt that fell down just above her ankles, black sandals and a pale blue blouse that emphasized that shade of her bluish green eyes. She sat down beside her husband and opposite of Remus and helped herself to some corn flakes cereal with fresh strawberries and blueberries.

"You're concerned about spending the night at Snape Manor, I presume," she added after pouring herself some tea. She raised her eyebrows when both men remained silent.

Sirius lowered his head to stare into the dark swirling liquid of his coffee, his jaw clenching until his teeth ached.

"My wolf tends to react negatively if he finds himself in a strange place during the full moon, Petunia," Remus explained. "Even with the Wolfsbane, he can become dangerously aggressive if he feels threatened."

"And do you think your wolf would feel threatened in Snape Manor?" she asked him. The question could have been mocking but Sirius knew that she meant it and wanted an honest answer. "You've spent the night multiple times at Prince Manor with no adverse effects to you or your wolf."

"My wolf recognizes Harry as a member of his pack and he has known Severus long enough to not feel threatened by his presence. The same cannot be said about Philip, however. Not only does my wolf feel threatened by him, the man is clearly an alpha in his own right and his presence contests your position as leader of our pack, Sirius," Remus said.

"Is he a werewolf?" Petunia asked.

"I've often wondered the same thing."

"You're a werewolf, Moony," Sirius pointed out. "You should be able to tell whether or not he's a werewolf too."

"I've never been around another werewolf before, Padfoot," his friend muttered. "I wouldn't know what another werewolf smelled like."

"And what does he smell like?"

"It's …" He hesitated. "It's difficult to explain but try to bear with me, all right?" When they nodded, he said, "He smells old."

Petunia raised her eyebrows.

Sirius snorted. "He smells _old_? Are you serious, Moony? What the hell does that mean?"

"He doesn't smell old in the traditional sense of the word," Remus said, his cheeks turning red. "It's more along the lines of _ancient_ or _powerful_ but far more so than even Dumbledore himself possesses."

Husband and wife stared at him.

"I don't know," Remus mumbled, ducking his head. "I'm probably wrong."

"Philip isn't even a wizard," Petunia said. "How can he be more powerful than Dumbledore of all people?"

Sirius rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Before I attended Hogwarts," he began slowly, as though he were sounding out his idea, "my mother took the time to teach me and Regulus about the Eldar races."

"The Elder races?" Petunia asked and she sounded somewhat quizzical.

"Eldar, dear," her husband gently corrected her. "The Eldar refers to the very first members of each race."

"Voldemort was a descendant of the Eldar race because of his blood ties to Salazar Slytherin," Remus added.

"But there were other witches and wizards besides the Founding Four."

"True," the werewolf agreed, "but the Founding Four were also the most powerful witches and wizards at the time, more along the lines of sorcerers and sorceresses."

Petunia looked skeptical. "There's a difference?"

Sirius nodded. "And the only mage to have ever lived is Merlin."

She held up her hand in an attempt to stop the influx of information; she appeared a little dazed, her blue-green eyes wide and her cheeks slightly flushed. Sirius reached for her and pressed his lips to her fingertips.

"You think that Philip could be a descendant of the Eldar race?" she asked.

"He and Severus and Harry," Remus said. "Yes."

Sirius stiffened at the implications of _that_ revelation.

"Do you really think that would change your relationship with Harry, Siri?" Petunia asked gently.

"No," he responded through numb lips, "but it would certainly everything if the Ministry were to learn of this."

"Sirius, I don't even know if that's the case," Remus said. "Just because he smells old doesn't mean he's from the Eldar lines."

A glint appeared in Sirius' eyes. "Let's ask him."

"What?"

"Let's ask him."

_Twenty minutes later:_

The moment that Sirius entered Sev and Sarai's chambers, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and fear rippled down the length of his spine. He could not explain why he was gripped with the urge to turn around and run as far away from here as fast as he possibly could. His canine instincts flared, recognizing a predator far more dangerous, far more cunning, than any beast that prowled the forests or plains of the world. He glanced over at Remus, noting how his friend's eyes had lightened to wolf amber.

_So Moony feels it too,_ he thought.

Sirius hated the unexplained fear washing through him; although this did not compare to the feelings that the Dementors conjured within him, because he did not feel as if he would never be happy again, it sapped him of the will to fight. He wanted to cower. He wanted to pray that the malevolent darkness he could feel spreading throughout the room decided to ignore his presence. It wasn't evil; not in the typical sense of the word, at least. The power, the ancientness, was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He found Philip standing in front of the hearth, his hands folded leisurely behind his back, his wife seated elegantly in the armchair beside him. Harry, Draco, and Nesmay sat at the dining room table along with the Weasley children, Hermione and Katie; Harry waved Dudley over, making room for his older cousin to sit with them. Molly and Arthur had claimed the loveseat which left the sofa open for Sirius, Petunia and Remus. Sarai leaned casually against the kitchenette's island and her husband stood a few feet behind her, his arms folded across his chest. Lyra joined Toria, Siren and Setus in the little girl's bedroom where they could play quietly without worrying about the discussion about to take place.

"What's this all about?" Petunia asked curiously as she took her seat in between Sirius and Remus.

Philip exchanged looks with Severus and Sirius swore that the two of them were communicating telepathically.

"Since the lot of you are going to be spending the majority of your summer holidays with us," he began, "Julie and I have come to the decision that you should be made aware of what we are for your safety as well as our own. I don't want to be forced to sneak around my own home because you're ignorant of the truth."

With each word Sirius felt as if he had been punched in the gut. He could feel his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage, hear his pulse pounding in his eardrums and his mouth turned dry.

"It can't be that bad, my dear," Mrs. Weasley consoled him. "If you and your family are werewolves, you have absolutely nothing to fear." She smiled kindly at him. "We'll accept you no matter what."

Sirius watched Phil incline his head in silent gratitude toward the older witch.

"We are not werewolves," Julie murmured in that soft voice of hers that grated on Sirius' nerves. He thought that Philip subconsciously grasped her hand, raising her fingertips to his lips and brushing her knuckles with a kiss.

"We are vampires," her husband said.

Sirius could feel his grip on reality beginning to spin out of control.

"That's impossible," Dudley cried. "Everyone knows that vampires can't walk about during the daytime. The sun would burn you to ashes in minutes."

Phil's lips twitched but whether it was in amusement or derision, Sirius did not know.

"You're right, young man," he answered. "Ordinarily, the sun would be able to destroy a vampire in minutes but Julie and I can enjoy the daylight thanks to this." He withdrew a violet stone from around his neck, allowing everyone in the room to see it, before slipping it beneath his shirt once again.

"Sunstones are incredibly rare," Remus pointed out. "How on Earth did you manage to afford _two_ of them?"

"Mine is a gift given to me from Titania," Phil explained, "after my first one was destroyed while I was protecting Sev, Harry and Draco from Voldemort during the Triwizard Tournament. Julie's pendant was my first ever gift to her and I purchased the stone from a goblin in the Egyptian branch of Gringotts many centuries before I met her."

"Then is she your _slave_?" Sirius demanded. "That's what older vampires do with younger vampires, isn't it, make slaves of them?"

"What you do not know, Black," Philip purred, his voice ominously soft, "could fill several books. She is not my slave. We do not create slaves. The bond that exists between a vampire Sire or Dame and their Fledgling is extremely personal and I would not expect you to understand that."

"Excuse me," Sirius said with a sneer, bowing his head mockingly. "Is she your fledgling, then?"

"I am his mate."

Sirius' gaze shifted to the petite young woman sitting upon the armchair, her long skirts elegantly folded about her legs, her hands clasped upon her lap. He blinked, startled, when Philip moved protectively in front of her.

"Is it possible for a fledgling to become a vampire's mate?" Mrs. Weasley asked curiously.

"It is," Phil agreed, "although if the vampire suspects that the woman is his mate, usually he will ask a trusted friend or confidante to Blood her. If she wants him to Blood her, though, it will usually happen on the eve of their wedding or that night when they consummate their love for one another."

"Is that what happened between you and Julie?" Mr. Weasley asked with a wicked grin.

Phil chuckled. "No. Julie was a vampiress when I met her even if she was an ignorant fledgling at the time."

Julie's hand moved too quickly for Sirius to see her playfully smack her husband; Phil glanced over his shoulder, arching an eyebrow at her, and she smiled at him.

"I can't believe this," Sirius growled drawing the attention of everyone else in the room. "Molly … Arthur … how can the two of you act so friendly with them? If what they say is true, and they really _are_ vampires … Have you forgotten the war?" He turned to glare at Severus. "Have you forgotten that that vampire got Emma killed?"

"No, Sirius," Severus murmured, his voice cold, "that was _you_."

Sirius surged to his feet. "How dare you?"

"Please," the dark wizard drawled, "let's not pretend that the reason she attempted to commit suicide was because of how you and your friends tormented her."

"I never did that!"

"Yes, you did," Severus snapped. "Everyone at school knew how much you and James loved to harass her. She was your favourite target, next to me, and, unlike me, she never reciprocated. She never raised her wand against you or in self defense! You bullied her, you harassed her, you tormented her to the brink, and she tried to kill herself because of you and the Marauders."

Sirius could feel his face flame with mortification – and shame when he caught the horrified expression on his wife's face.

"You're exaggerating, Snape," he spat.

"About what?" the other man demanded.

"All of it! We never treated you or anyone else at Hogwarts that badly. If you couldn't handle some form of hazing, that's your problem and not mine."

"Do not," Philip snarled, interrupting the conversation, "downplay the fact that you attempted to have Remus kill Sev in your Sixth year, Black."

"Merlin, you're never going to let that go are you, Snape?" Sirius threw up his hands in exasperation. "All I wanted was for you to learn your lesson about poking your nose where it didn't belong."

"_Enough._"

The quiet Command sent magic rippling through all three men and Philip sank gracefully to one knee before his wife, his head bowed; even Severus bowed elegantly at the waist to her. Sirius fought the compulsion to kneel in front of the woman but he could not resist the magic that forced him to his knees and he found that his tongue had somehow glued itself to the roof of his mouth, preventing him from speaking.

"I have had quite enough of you, Sirius Black," the lady vampire informed him coolly (but, someone who knew her well, like Severus, for example, would be able to see that her hands trembled with emotion). "You are arrogant and prideful and you think that you are right about everything. You still do not see the harm that your actions have caused over the years. Instead of taking a look in the mirror and realizing that you are at fault, you continue to blame your victims for the torture they endured at your hands.

"I knew Emma," she whispered. "Lionel, the vampire whom you believed killed her, brought her to our home after he saved her life by turning her into a vampire. She was delirious, feverish, as is most often the case when a human undergoes the process of becoming a vampire. She told me of her family, of her hopes and dreams, of her life at school and how she wished that Lionel had left her to die. She told me about her tormentors, how they called themselves the Marauders and how they loved to humiliate her, to make her cry in front of her classmates."

She held up a hand when Sirius opened his mouth, forestalling him.

"I am not in the mood to hear your excuses nor am I willing to see you place blame on your victims," she murmured. "You are not able or you are not ready to see that side of yourself but I _will not_ hear another negative word spoken about Severus or Emma. Am I understood?"

Sirius' jaw clenched angrily when he realized that he could not say the words that he could feel trembling on his lips. This was far worse than the Imperious Curse; under that Unforgivable Curse, one was ignorant of their actions, living in a world of white noise. This … this was different. He could _feel_ the magic that compelled his body to obey the commands given it; it was unlike anything he had ever experienced before in his life and he absolutely hated it. The muscles in his arms spasmed as he fought to curl his fingers into fists but he could not.

_Who in the hell does she think she is?_ He thought furiously.

He vaguely remembered Emma. She had been in the same year as him, albeit a Hufflepuff, and she had dared to stand up to him and James when she saw them tormenting Severus one day. Both he and James were of the same opinion that she should learn to mind her own business and they sought out to teach her that lesson by harassing her in much the same way they did Severus. They felt that she had deserved it at the time. Sirius never realized that by humiliating the girl in front of their schoolmates he had opened the portal for the rest of them to gang up on her. Unlike Severus, who had had Lily's friendship throughout their years at Hogwarts, poor Emma had no one. Sirius would purposely drive a wedge between her and any boy that showed an interest in her simply out of spite.

She had never been considered popular or beautiful the way that Lily had been. It was only after her attempted suicide and Lionel stepping in that she emerged as a beautiful young woman. She had been pretty if a bit plump, even as a girl, with wide blue eyes that seemed to see things most people didn't and light brown hair that curled around her shoulders. He remembered seeing her at an Order meeting one night from a distance, not too long after they'd graduated, how her blue eyes had glowed in the shadowed halls of Hogwarts and she seemed to become one with the darkness. She had met his gaze from across the hall and her exquisite beauty nearly dropped him to his knees. The ugly duckling truly had transformed into a beautiful swan.

It had been only a few months later that he had come across her corpse strung up on the outer walls of Voldemort's manor. He hadn't recognized her or the person's hand she'd held beside her. It had taken an experienced Auror like Alastair Moody to discover just who and what she had been. She had become a vampire and Sirius had hated her for it, never suspecting that he had driven her down the path toward darkness.

"A simple yes will suffice."

His blue eyes flashed at the indignity of being forced to obey someone else's orders. He and James had been co-leaders of their group, Remus and Peter both understand that if they pushed for leadership they would be forced to submit.

He did not know what powers vampires possessed but Philip must have sensed his building anger because the vampire shifted his weight until he stood protectively in front of his wife. His hand gripped the pommel of his sword.

Hating himself, he forced his lips to form that single word, "Yes" and her magic released him, allowing him to climb to his feet once more.

Tension filled the room as the Animagus glared daggers at both male and female vampires.

"You do not have to spend your holiday with us if you do not wish to," Philip said after several long moments of uncomfortable silence. "I am not your enemy nor am I a threat to you, Sirius, regardless of what you may think of me."

"You are in far greater danger around Remus than you would be around us," Julie pointed out helpfully.

"Remus has nothing to do with this," Sirius spat. "We're talking about you being vampires not about Remus being a werewolf."

"It equates to the same thing," Phil snapped, the infamous Snape temper revealing itself at last. "You are afraid that Julie and I will attack you sometime in the night and drink every last drop of blood from your body. While that _is_ tempting – because the Lord knows that you are hardly innocent, Sirius – I try to avoid murdering guests in my own home. That just seems dishonourable to me."

"So you _have_ thought about killing me!" Sirius cried triumphantly.

Philip's violet eyes shifted to a bloody crimson and Sirius once again felt that primal fear crawl down the back of his spine.

"You have gone out of your way to hurt someone very dear me," he whispered menacingly. "You still do not regret the fact that Severus could have been killed by a maturing werewolf in your Sixth year nor do you regret anything you've done to him. You are Harry's godfather and my nephew clearly loves you. _He_ is the only reason you are still breathing, Black, because, trust me, I would have killed you the moment I met you otherwise."

Sirius felt the blood drain from his face.

"You're – you are joking," Harry implored the vampire. "Right, Uncle Phil?"

"Have you known me to jest in this particular way, Harry?" Philip returned, never looking away from Sirius. "You are young and so I forgive your ignorance but your godfather is not the man that you think him to be."

"Don't you dare!" Sirius growled.

Philip took an intimidating step forward.

"Or what, Black?" he asked silkily. "You don't scare me."

Before he was fully aware of what he was doing, Sirius grabbed his wand and pointed it at Philip, shouting, "_Expelliarmus!_"

The red light from the spell connected squarely with his chest but the vampire remained rock steady despite the impact.

"Sirius!" Petunia shrieked.

"You heard him, Pet," he cried. "He admits that he wants to kill me!"

"It's no wonder," she snapped, "when you're acting like a petulant child or worse a spoiled brat!"

Philip strode forward and gently (for him) pushed Sirius down on to the couch in between his wife and friend. Phil's expression was thunderous.

"Listen and listen well, Sirius," he rumbled. "I am well aware of the fact that you do not like me. I am not too fond of you, either. Our common link is Harry. I am willing to let this little incident slide. For him." He leaned forward until his face was mere inches away from the other man. "But, mark me, _boy_, if you ever attempt to curse me again unprovoked, regardless of Harry's influence, I'll kill you."

"That's murder," Petunia gasped.

"Yes, it is," the vampire answered calmly. "You could even venture to say that I'm a serial killer, Mrs. Black."

"Enough, Philip," Julie's soft voice admonished her husband gently. "You've made your point. You don't need to rub their noses in it."

Philip blinked and slowly raised to his full height once more, his arms crossed over his chest aggressively.

Sirius opened his mouth to make a scathing remark but Petunia smacked him soundly upside the head and he pressed his lips together.

"Perhaps we should go over the rules?" Julie suggested.

"That may be wise, my darling," her husband agreed. Exhaling loudly, he raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair. "Julie and I really only have one rule that applies to everyone but, most especially, to you lot." He glared pointedly at everyone seated at the table. "Do not take it into your heads that what I'm telling you is actually the opposite of what I want you to do. It is not. Trust me when I tell you that I will punish you most severely if I find out that you've broken this rule."

"Not even Siren and Setus would dare disobey," Julie added, knowing that that would make Harry, Ron and Hermione realize that she and Philip were deadly serious about this.

"Do not, under any circumstances, open any locked doors you may come across," Phil warned them. "I know that in the past breaking the rules has become something of the norm for you four," he said, his eyes never straying from Harry, Draco, Ron and Hermione, "But this is not Hogwarts. My secrets are not meant to be discovered by curious humans with a penchant for trouble. I have wards erected so believe me when I tell you that I shall know if they've been breached."

"As for you," the vampire continued, turning to glare at Remus. "Ordinarily, Julie and I would offer you our grounds to hunt fresh game while you are under the moon's call but, the truth of the matter is, you lack control. We have prepared you a comfortable room where you may spend the night without fear of harming anyone."

"The Wolfsbane Potion—" Remus began.

"—is of little help to you," Phil finished. "I have told you time and again that that potion is used sparingly and only to help adolescent or recently turned werewolves learn control. A werewolf's body eventually develops immunity to it if taken too regularly."

"What will you do to me?" he asked him fearfully.

"Nothing," the vampire returned. "All I plan to do is ensure that you are kept somewhere comfortable where you can do no harm to anyone and no one can do you harm."

Sirius caught Moony's eye but he smartly chose to remain silent.

"Do you have any questions for us?"

"What about those of us who have apprenticeships or work?" Draco asked.

"Depending on your preference, Draco, I can connect to the Floo Network or you can Apparate," Phil said.

"Our home runs off of electricity," Julie explained. "You are welcome to use magic but I would ask that you do so sparingly as it can interfere with our electronic devices. I would recommend using Philip's potions lab or training room if you must cast spells. We also have a garden and greenhouse where we grow our own fruits and vegetables; unfortunately we don't own any livestock apart from our horses. You shall have to let Phil and I know if we run out of something so that we can buy more."

"What about you?" Dudley ventured to ask. When Julie tilted her head at him in confusion, he clarified, "You've made it clear that you're both vampires and vampires drink blood. Do you keep bags of blood in your refrigerator or do you go to the local blood bank or morgue?"

"That does not matter," Phil murmured.

"But—"

"That is something you do not need to know, Dudley, and I would ask you not to bring the subject up again."

"You said you had horses …" Nesmay began tentatively.

"We do," Julie said, smiling at her niece. "Although they are not the horses from the Faerie Realm, they are far more intelligent than your average beast and I think you'd quite enjoy going for a ride, Nesmay. We have a secret waterfall located deep in the forest that borders our property. It's quite beautiful at night and just as gorgeous during the day."

Nesmay grinned but then she voiced another concern. "What about Cafall?"

"So long as he behaves and doesn't track mud all over my floors or jump up on furniture, I don't have a problem with him in the house."

Sirius arched an eyebrow at her. "Not a dog person?"

"Vampires usually aren't," she answered. "We're not social like werewolves. We live a more solitary lifestyle unless we happen to find our mate and begin a family – like Phil and I – or we desire a companion. A vampire is more likely to have an exotic feline for a familiar.

"Mark me, Sirius," she continued, her voice growing stern, "if I catch you in your Animgaus form trailing mud all over my home, I'll make you clean my floors with a toothbrush."

"Now why would I do that when Petunia threatening me is far more exciting?"

"Sirius!" his wife hissed but he heard the laughter in her voice.

"What happens if we decide to go shopping in the Muggle world?" Hermione asked. "Would we be required to bus or …?"

"I would be a poor host if my guests were forced to bus, wouldn't you think?" Phil said with a bit of a chuckle. "I have adequate transportation if you wish to go shopping.

"Do you have any more questions for us? No? Then let us be off!"

**Edited February 2016**

**Author's notes:** Thank you for reading!

**Next: **Fred and George's attempt to play a trick ends up backfiring in a most spectacular way…


	5. Embrace the Night

**5**

**Embrace the Night**

"Harry, don't you _dare!_"

Katie shrieked shrilly when Harry lifted her into his arms and then threw her into the pool with a dramatic splash. Water sprayed into the air and the tiny droplets that splattered around the marble walkway glittered like shards of shattered diamonds when the sunlight struck against them just right. She surfaced, sputtering, her blue eyes blazing with wicked amusement and a hint of vengeance yet to come, her dark golden hair plastered to her neck and curling about her shoulders. Grinning wickedly at her, a devilish glint in his emerald eyes, Harry dove in right beside her; he swam underneath her gently kicking legs and then wrapped his fingers around her ankle, tugging her down beneath the surface. Rays of sunlight streamed through the shimmering surface of the water causing fragments of light to wriggle and dance across the blue lining of the pool. Bubbles slowly floated upward, glowing silver, and tickling their skin as the air released from the tiny spheres. Leaning forward Harry pressed a kiss to Katie's cheek before pushing himself upward and sucking in a lungful of air.

His Aunt Petunia remained in the shallow end of the enormous pool happily playing with Lyra and Toria as the two girls bounced up and down each in a pair of pink floaties. Sirius, Dudley, Draco, Remus, Ron and Arthur played a friendly though competitive game of volleyball in the grass only a few yards from the pool. Ginny cried out enthusiastically when she won the game of Marco Polo having yelled 'fish out of water' with her eldest brother standing on the diving board. Siren and Setus giggled from their hiding spots under the diving board and, in the next moment, Bill leapt into the water with an enormous splash, beginning a brand new game. Hermione, Nesmay and her mother sat in comfortable lawn chairs under an enormous umbrella talking quietly to each other while Julie dozed beside them. Molly bustled about the kitchen preparing a light lunch of sandwiches, chips and salads with freshly squeezed raspberry lemonade to drink. Phil and Severus casually strolled through his garden where he planted the herbs and plants required and used in potions.

In the distance you could hear the soft trickling of a stream and the occasional splash and flash of silver as fish leapt out of the water to catch the darting dragonflies. A weeping willow reflected perfectly on the surface of the water and its branches swayed back and forth in a hot summer breeze. The sprigs of the cherry blossom tree Phil and Julie picked to represent their lost twins grew on either side of the weeping willow. It would be years before the tiny saplings matched the willow in height and then their pale pink blossoms would fill the air with their sweet scent and colour the water with their beautiful petals.

With everyone outside enjoying the beautiful weather Fred and George decided to explore the manor in order to discover its secrets. The allure of breaking the rules sang its siren call through their blood and their curiosity won against their common sense. They discovered Julie's art studio on the first floor in the eastern wing, the room neatly organized with canvas of differing sizes leaning against one wall, an easel standing directly in front of a window that revealed a beautiful rose garden beyond. They ignored the library (twice the size of the one at Hogwarts) and the garage where Phil housed his overly expensive vehicles (including a Rolls Royce). When their mother caught them snooping around the exercise room located directly across from the expansive kitchen, she shooed them away with a warning glare.

"You two have better things to be doing than snooping around here," she scolded them, hands on her hips. "Go on, now. Get!"

Her mischievous twins smiled at her but, of course, they disobeyed her, instead deciding to explore a part of the manor where she couldn't keep an eye on them. While Molly loved her children with all of her heart, she would never understand Fred and George's need to cause mischief. All children played pranks on one another and tried to push their siblings' buttons much to their parents' annoyance but Fred and George intended to make a career out of that. They shared a small flat together in Hogsmeade right beside Zonko's Joke shop and apprenticed to the man himself; they helped him develop new pranks or jokes that they thought Hogwarts' students might enjoy. Speaking of their latest prank . . .

Fred and George desperately wanted to try out their latest product on an unsuspecting victim (their immediately family knew them too well and now always checked for jokes or pranks they might have attempted to play on them). The product happened to be a small colourful sphere that opened in the center and would release a glittering powder of the same shade as the shell. The powder would react when in direct contact with a person's skin and cause that person to undergo a rapid transformation into whatever animal the prankster chose for a maximum period of three days and a minimum of one hour. They had already tested the powder on themselves and Mr. Zonko with no adverse effects but they wanted to make sure that their joke product would work the same for everyone else (of course, it would have no effect on an Animagus or werewolf, transforming them into their animal or wolf form).

George reached inside his pocket and withdrew a golden-coloured sphere holding it on the flat of his palm; Fred grinned at him.

"Feline?" he asked.

George's smile grew into something resembling an evil grin that Fred mirrored.

"Now all we need to do is find the perfect way to douse someone in the powder," George said.

"We could rig it to a door," Fred suggested.

"Yeah, but which one?" his brother asked. "I don't exactly want to prank Professor Snape, if you know what I mean."

Fred snickered at the thought but he readily agreed with his twin; pranking Professor Snape would not be one of the wisest decisions they made.

"To hell with it," George growled, his fingers curling around the tiny golden ball. "Let's just pick one and have done with it."

_Later that evening:_

"Thanks Uncle Phil!" Nesmay exclaimed happily when the man held out a marshmallow for her to poke on to the end of her stick. She then turned and swung it over the open blaze, watching the flames char the ends black before catching fire. She pulled it back, blew on it and then popped the melted mallow into her mouth.

"Don't stick the marshmallow right in the fire, Nessie," Harry advised his sister. "You want to hold it just above the flames. Like this." He demonstrated, holding out his stick with a marshmallow on the end just above the flames. "That way it'll turn nice and golden brown instead of black."

Nesmay grinned at him and accepted the second marshmallow Phil held out to her. Julie gently removed a gooey marshmallow from the end of Setus' stick with two graham crackers and a slab of chocolate. He bit down into the s'more with glee, his tiny fangs glinting in the firelight when he grinned at his mother; chocolate, melted marshmallow and graham crumbs clung to the sides of his mouth. His tongue poked out between his teeth and licked at the mess eagerly. He grabbed the stick laying at her feet, his father pushing two more marshmallows onto the end of it.

Dudley stood in between Sirius and Remus, the three of them watching the split ends of their hotdogs curl backward from the heat of the fire. This did not compare to any of the camping trips his father ever took him on; for one thing he could see the lights gleaming in the windows in the kitchen of Snape Manor in the distance and he _was_ enjoying himself. The blazing fire hissed and crackled merrily in front of him, warming his hands, legs and face, smoke billowing in one direction one moment and then changing in the next instant. His eyes stung and watered from the bitter taste of wood smoke that clogged his mouth and nose and he waved a hand in an attempt to dissipate it. He pulled his cooked wiener toward him, the curled ends black and charred just the way he enjoyed it.

Severus glanced up when Sarai and Petunia returned from putting Toria and Lyra to bed for the evening. His wife sidled up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, tucking her slender, lithe body against his side. One of her hands tenderly stroked up and down his ribcage – one of the most sensitive spots on his body – while she rested her head against his chest listening to the sound of his heart beating. He smiled and bent to place a kiss on the top of her hair.

"How are you faring, my sweet?" he murmured, his velvet voice sending a sensual shudder down the back of her spine. Although she would not begin to show her pregnancy until August, he worried about her and, sometimes, he appeared smothering rather than endearing. Tonight appeared to be the latter rather than the former.

"I'm a little more tired than usual," she told him honestly. Her hand settled on her smooth belly and she could not help but glance over at their immortal companions, compassion etching her exotic fae features. She could not feel the baby yet but she knew at what stage her tummy would bulge and the life she carried would move about inside of her. It never ceased to amaze her; she carried a new _life_.

"What's a campfire without ghost stories?" Dudley asked. He looked around the campfire curiously, shrugging his shoulders when the wizarding members of his family stared back at him in confusion. "It might not be something you wizards do," he said, a little belligerently, "but it was always fun to have the pants scared off you whenever I went to summer camps and whatnot."

"I would rather avoid telling stories about the dead, if you don't mind, Dudley," Julie said, her voice hushed as though in reverence to any lingering spirits. "It may seem an old superstition to you," she whispered, "but past experiences have taught me that evil spirits, souls unable to find eternal peace or an eternal rest, linger in between the mortal and undead plains and speaking ill of them is a sure fire way to attract their attention."

Sirius grinned maliciously at the timid woman. Remus huffed with amusement. Even Dudley managed a crooked smile.

"You expect me to believe that load of crock and bull, do you?" The canine Animagus sneered derisively at her. "The next thing you'll be telling me is that the bogeyman is real. Or Bigfoot. Or E.T."

A vampire could not blush unless they happened to have overindulged in the taking of human blood (and that required a _lot_ of blood (and, in some cases, an extraordinary number of bodies)). Her cheeks did not blush a becoming shade of pink; they turned a deep shade of blue mixed with purple, mirroring fresh bruises underneath her eyes, revealing the depth of her stress. Sirius held her gaze, challenging her, until, after three or four heartbeats, she lowered her eyes in submission. A knot of anxiety tightened the muscles in her belly but not before the bond telegraphed her emotions to her ever perceptive mate.

"You are free to believe whatever you wish, Sirius," Philip informed him coldly. "The dead are always present; they can see and they can hear just as easily as you or me, whether you like it or not. They can't communicate with us the way that they could when they were alive and so they have to find a different method of trying to tell us what it is they need in order to move on. Most often times you will encounter the person you loved in the form of a dream or an unexplained feeling of love and happiness when you walk into a specific room. It is difficult for a spirit to be able to manifest itself but the darker ones are usually capable of such a feat. They prey on negative emotions: fear, hate, despair, sorrow. Not only does speaking ill of the dead show a tremendous lack of respect on your part but sharing stories of people that committed such atrocious acts grants their unrested spirits power."

His voice grew hard. "While you are a guest in my home and sleeping under my roof, you _will_ respect my wife's request. It might be common place for humans to share horrific tales of one's grisly accomplishments in a twisted form of flattery; we do not."

"But the whole point of telling ghost stories is to scare you," Dudley actually dared to interrupt him. He shrank back slightly when the master vampire eyed him shrewdly. (Philip, like Severus, hated to be interrupted while speaking and considered it very bad manners.) "It's supposed to be _fun._"

"You think it's fun to listen to the description of a woman screaming in agony as she is raped and beaten to within an inch of her life?" Disgust etched every line of Phil's handsome face and his voice deepened an octave. "There is tremendous difference between describing the events before the queen's court and describing the events in a macabre retelling of what actually happened for someone else's _enjoyment._"

Sirius clamped a hand reassuringly on Dudley's shoulder. He took an intimidating step forward. Damn it all, he remembered his promise to Petunia but he could not let go of the jealousy that burned deep inside of him. It ate at him; he could feel his magic rushing through his veins and sparking spontaneously between his fingertips. He could not forgive Phil for being there for Harry, for guarding him and protecting him during the TriWizard Tournament, when he himself could not be there. His jealousy only burned brighter when he realized how much Harry actually cared for the man. He absolutely loathed Phil; he hated him with a passion that rivaled his old hatred of Severus.

He wanted to knock the vampire off the imaginary pedestal that everyone held him up on. He couldn't openly attack the man; unlike Severus, who provided an easy target being the scrawny poor boy that he was, Philip's preternatural senses would prevent him from ever gaining the upper hand and he would only have Remus to help back him up. He wanted to prove to Harry that trusting a vampire – any vampire – could end up being a fatal mistake. It haunted him; nightmares of his family drained of their blood, their throats baring those infamous puncture wounds and of Philip standing over them, his eyes blazing a hellish red, his fangs dripping with their blood. He warded the doors to his, Dudley and Lyra's bedrooms every night with every protective spell he knew how to cast. He didn't care that he claimed to hunt only the evildoer; he would never risk the lives of his wife, son and daughter.

He glanced over at Julie and clenched his teeth until his jaw ached from the tension. Sickeningly sweet, overly compassionate and kind to a fault, he believed that the female vampire hid a darker far more frightening nature that she didn't want anyone to see. She never lost her temper in front of anyone. She never raised her voice either to Phil or her mischievous twins. Petunia and Sarai did not hesitate to raise their voices and yell at their husbands if they felt the situation warranted it; his wife even threatened to whack him with her skillet on a regular basis when he tried her patience. Something about her did not sit well with him and he intended to figure out what it could be.

He watched Phil and the hair on the back of Sirius' neck stood on end when he stared directly into the man's violet eyes. Having grown up around a werewolf and being a canine animagus Sirius understood that 90 per cent of communication happened to be nonverbal. A werewolf's body language mirrored that of their four-legged cousins. Wolves _and_ werewolves rarely stared directly into another's eyes for fear of instigating a fight over dominance; the fights could be brutal, especially if two males of equal strength and standing didn't know where they stood within the pack hierarchy. Remus feared and loathed his lupine nature which meant that on the night of the full moon his wolf's instincts held complete control over him. He feared and loathed his dual nature so much so that he buried his wolf in the recesses of his consciousness. Only in wolf form did Moony recognize the pecking order within their small pack (and now that consisted of himself and Sirius only).

Humans didn't need to establish dominance the way that werewolves did; they didn't need to know who protected and who w_as_ protected, who would fight and who would flee. A title often worked in a person's favour but that could never be the case for a werewolf; his aggression determined where he stood within his pack – the more aggressive his nature, the higher up in the pack he ranked and the more submissive he behaved the lower in the pack he ranked. Only omegas stood outside the pack structure.

His canine instincts recognized Remus as a submissive wolf. Because he _chose_ to become an animal at will he did not experience the instincts of his canine mind while in human form; only as a dog did those instincts surge to the forefront of his brain but, even then, he knew himself to be a man first and foremost and a canine second. Remus constantly fought a losing battle with his lupine instincts. Both Sirius and Remus didn't understand that his lack of acceptance, his lack of control, made him the dangerous beast that the Ministry of Magic feared so much.

Unable to bear those blazing violet eyes any longer Sirius dropped his gaze in submission.

"If we're not going to be able to listen to ghost stories then what the hell's the point of having a campfire?" Dudley demanded. His snide tone earned him a quick cuff on the ear from his mother. While Petunia and Sirius tended to be far less strict than Severus and Sarai, both of them believed in addressing an adult with respect.

"We can still share stories, Dud," Harry said.

"Like _what?_"

"Philip could tell you the origin story of how thestrals came into being," Julie suggested. She ducked her head shyly when her husband smiled tenderly at her. "It _is_ one of my favourites."

"What are thestrals?"

"Winged horses that can only be seen if you've seen death," Sirius explained to his son. "Trust me," he added; eyeing the two adult vampires warily, "you don't want to see them. They're horrible to look at and incredibly unlucky, too."

"Hagrid says that's just a myth," Harry said. "He took us into the Forbidden Forest in our Fifth year to show us them and told us all about them."

"You can see them?"

Harry nodded.

"And what do they look like?" Dudley asked curiously.

"They're beautiful in their own way. They're these black skeletal-like horses with bat-like wings and they feed on fresh meat instead of hay or oats like regular horses do. Hagrid says they have a wonderful sense of direction and are great companions for long journeys."

"How come nobody can see them except those who've seen death?"

"It all has to do with one little girl's wish and a father's love for his daughter," Julie murmured. "Phil knows the full story and he tells it better than I ever could."

"Oh!" Siren clapped his hands enthusiastically. He stared up at his father with wide, glowing purple eyes. "Please tell us the story, Papa, pretty please!"

"Oh, yes, Papa," Setus echoed his twin. "Please, please, please, _please?_"

"All right, all right," their father relented, his voice shifting baritone slightly as he laughed softly at his children's antics. The two little boys jumped for joy. And. of course, he could never refuse one of his wife's requests.

The fire crackled, snapped and popped, sending bright red sparks spitting into the air to land, smoking, on the grass. The hungry flames devoured the pyramid of logs, the bark curling in a blaze of red and orange before crumbling as ashes to the ground. The embers glowed bright as hot coals.

Sirius tilted his head back, gazing up at the star-filled sky and the waxing, nearly full moon that bathed the earth in pale silver light. He glanced at Remus. The werewolf closed his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing, as he basked beneath her circular face. He would not need to lock himself in the Shrieking Shack for this month's full moon; he would remain comfortably in his room.

"You okay, Moony?" Sirius asked his friend gently.

He nodded without opening his eyes. Sirius could not hear the sweet song of the moon the way that he could, did not feel her rays of silver light caressing his skin, did not taste the wildness of the wolf on his tongue. For now he ignored the moon's tantalizing call but when she blazed full he would be unable to resist her.

Both Sirius and Remus looked over when the fire hissed and popped because of Phil adding a few more logs to the blaze. He straightened and his violet eyes glowed eerily within his pale face, reflecting the flickering flames.

"Once upon a time, in a land shrouded by mist and snow, there lived a little girl with her family," Phil began the tale, his voice shifting until the timber and pitch resonated with a maturity that none of those listening would ever know. "They lived happily together for several years at the base of what is now known as the Himalayan Mountains. This was several centuries before the unification of Tibet and almost four before the first Dalai Lama came into being (although the political role of the Dalai Lama only began with the reign of the fifth Dalai Lama). The girl's mother was a kind and gentle woman and she often reminded her daughter to treat those around her with courage and kindness. These words she took to heart and the little girl did just that treating those she encountered with courage, kindness and gentleness.

"When the girl turned twelve, her mother fell ill. Knowing that she would not survive and not wanting their daughter to witness her suffering, her father packed a lunch for his child and bade she take the three day long journey to the hidden monastery of Hemis. This was not uncommon for her parents to send her to the monastery where she would spend most of her days meditating and learning new skills for Buddhists are not prejudice the way that most other religions are. Knowing this would be the last time she ever saw her daughter, her mother kissed her goodbye and silently prayed for her and her father's happiness.

"The girl returned 12 days later to find her father tending to the farm animals all by himself. Immediately she knew that her mother was gone and, remembering her words, she forgave her instead of holding on to the anger that would have gnawed at her soul and made her into a bitter old woman. She walked up to her father and hugged him and the two of them wept together, their grief bringing them closer to each other.

"Time passed. The girl was now grown into a beautiful young woman. She helped her father work the land and care for the animals – not that they had much but it was enough for the two of them to get by. But the good times could not last forever and so one day a soldier of the _khagan_ rode up to their small home and handed her father a conscription notice. If he did not show up at the palace in the capital in ten days' time, he would be killed for desertion.

"His daughter actually begged the king's messenger to spare her father but he rode away from her, cold and indifferent to her pleading. She tried to convince her father to flee with her further into the mountains but he refused. He knew that the king's soldiers would chase him until they killed him and he did not want that life for his daughter. She collapsed against him, sobbing, begging him not to leave her alone the way that her mother had. He picked her up and held her against his chest and brought her outside where he pointed to the night sky, filled with stars. He told her, 'While I will be far away, you and I will never truly be a part. When you look up at the sky, so will I. It is the same stars that you and I will be looking at, my Amina. It is the same moon. It is the same wind that will blow through your hair and mine. It is the same sun that will warm your back and mine. I will be far away but I will never leave you.'

"And so the day came when her father had to leave her. She hugged him fiercely, sobbing into his chest and he, himself, shed tears because he did not want to go away. He could delay no longer and mounted their only horse. His daughter chased after him to the end of their property and after that she stood waving to him until she could no longer see him. 'Come back to me,' she whispered, watching him ride further and further away. 'Come back to me one day, Papa.'

"Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and months into years. They wrote to each other constantly. His daughter filled him in on what was happening at the farm and how she met a traveler from a faraway land. Unfortunately, the day came when she received word that her father had died in battle. She wound up marrying the traveler and providing him with three wonderful sons. One day while her husband and sons were out tilling the fields a battle-worn soldier with an injured leg showed up at her small home. She did not recognize this wounded, bitter old man but he remembered her for, as it turns out, the army had made a mistake. Her father had been discharged after a serious leg injury left him crippled.

"She and her family welcomed her father with open arms, sharing with him what little they had to begin with. That night at dinner he took his daughter's hands in his own. She had grown from a vibrant young woman into a gently rounded mature adult with children of her own. 'After all these years, I have come back,' he said, 'only to find that my daughter no longer needs her father.' And she started to cry and said, 'I may be older than when you have left but I will always need my father.'

"The family continued to live together happily for several years to come but it was evident that the older man was not faring well. His injury hurt him more and more every time the rains came and the snow blew down the mountain. He could no longer work the land or even chop wood to provide warmth for his family in the bitterly cold winter months. Late one winter's night he gazed one final time at the sleeping form of his daughter as she dozed on the old couch. He did not say goodbye. He quietly slipped outside and began his trek up the mountain toward its peak. As he climbed higher and higher, the air became thinner and thinner, making it difficult for him to breathe. He looked down below, now too high up to even see the flickering lights of the nearby towns.

"'Where do you go, old soldier?' a voice on the wind asked him and he answered, 'Nowhere but to my death.'

"'To your death,' the old voice mocked him. 'I think there is much left for you to do, old soldier. Even now your daughter searches the land for you, calling your name, begging you to come home.'

"'How can I go back?' he cried. 'I am a bitter old man. She has a husband and sons. What use does she have for an old soldier who can no longer provide for his family?'

"At that moment the air became so cold that the old man swore he could feel ice building his lungs. He started to shiver violently. Just as quickly as it had begun, the wind died down and, looking up at the sky, he could see the stars. Long ago words flitted inside his head, the vow he had made to his daughter before he rode off to war.

"'I cannot change the past or give you back your lost years,' the voice told him. 'I cannot make your daughter young or heal your injuries. I can help you save your daughter's husband and your grandchildren.'

"'How?'

"'By making you my vassal,' the voice whispered. 'You shall teach the _khagan_ that there are other options for peace besides war.'

"The old man did not want his daughter's life ruined even further with the thought of his grandchildren being conscripted into war. 'For her,' he swore. 'I will do it for her.'

"The next instant he could feel warmth seep into his bones and strength poor into his exhausted limbs. His body twisted and reformed. Wings erupted from his shoulders. His face elongated. 'You are now my vassal. You are a creature that will be feared and this will, hopefully, teach humans about the stupidity of war for only those who have seen death will be able to see you.'

"The thestral took wing and landed by his daughter's home just as the sun was rising. She never did see her father again or the black skeletal horse that kept guard over her husband and children when they rode off to war. His grandchildren saw him when they made their first kills on the battlefield and they were overcome with such fear and awe when they saw him that they retreated. All those who saw the mighty and terrifying beast fled before him and the _khagan_ was forced to end the war by sending diplomats to the foreign country and signing several treaties."

"Wow," Hermione breathed. "That was a lovely story, Phil."

"It is one of my favourites," Julie agreed with the younger witch. She wrapped her arms around Setus' middle and nuzzled him gently causing her son to squirm and giggle madly.

"So thestrals were meant as a way to prevent war?" Dudley asked. "That's wicked cool."

"Mm." Sirius agreed.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you but I think I'm going to bed," Petunia said. She glanced at her watch. "Goodness, it's quarter to twelve!"

"I think it's time for a certain pair of twins to get ready for bed, hmm?" Julie crooned, looking down at her children.

"Aw Ma!" Setus scowled.

"I'm not a bit sleepy," Siren added around a yawn.

Phil chuckled. "All right, come along, you two imps. Say goodnight to your aunt and uncle and I'll read you both a bedtime story."

The twins obeyed, bidding their Aunt Sarai and Uncle Sev goodnight with hugs and kisses for her before they followed their father up to the manor.

"You let your eight-year-old twins stay up until midnight?" Sirius asked Julie. He ignored the warning look that Severus shot him, eyeing the female vampire coldly. "We put Lyra to bed hours ago."

"Siren and Setus are pureblood vampires," Julie murmured, an edge of steel to her voice. "Vampires are most active at night and our children are no exception to that rule. During the summer holidays we often allow them to stay up until midnight and they sleep in until around 11 or 12 the next day."

Sirius didn't bother to hide the sneer that curled his lips.

"We aren't human, Sirius," she said, her voice remaining as soft as it always did. "Raising our sons as if they were would be a mistake."

"Hey, I don't give a damn how you raise your kids," he defended himself holding up his hands. "You raise the little bloodsuckers however you see fit."

"Sirius!" Petunia exclaimed. "Apologize this instant. That was rude."

"It wasn't rude," he snapped. "It's the truth. They're an entire family of bloodsuckers."

Severus glared at Sirius.

"Yes, we do drink blood," Julie informed them all coolly. "For the record, Sirius, I was born this way; I did not choose to become a vampire. Your insults are nothing new. Either find some new material or mind your own business because I will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of my children."

And with that, she regally climbed to her feet and started the slow trek back up to the manor.

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

Julie sat, staring unseeingly at her reflection, in front of her boudoir, running a brush through her shoulder-length hair. _Bloodsucker._ That word haunted her._ Demon spawn. _She closed her eyes in an attempt to stay the memories that threatened to assault her._ Devil worshipper._ Her curled fingers tightened around the handle of her brush and she inhaled sharply before clamping her lips shut. For a moment, she pretended that she could feel a heart beating in her breast as her body starved for oxygen; she did not feel that beating heart nor did her body spasm as it struggled for air. She released her breath in a soft whoosh of air. _Monster._

She wasn't. She _wasn't._

The brush fell from numb fingers to clatter noisily on the smooth surface of her boudoir knocking over her perfume bottles in the process. Distracted, lost in her thoughts, she gently picked up the heart-shaped bottle that contained her favourite scented perfume – a gift from Philip for her birthday. She lifted a hand and tapped a fang with her nail. She righted the second vial and then carefully placed her brush on the end where it always rested.

"Honey?"

She started violently when Phil walked quietly up behind her, his concerned expression reflected in the ovular mirror that angled slightly away from her. She closed her eyes. She rarely startled; with her exceptional hearing it made it difficult for people to sneak up on her and she always knew when Phil was nearby.

His hands settled on her shoulders. _Are you all right?_

He did not speak aloud. More than just words traveled through the bond that they shared. His love enfolded her as tenderly as his wings when the two of them decided to spend an evening flying. His concern washed over her like a tidal wave, quietly picking up speed until it crashed upon her senses and left her reeling.

"I'm fine," she murmured.

Phil's hand slithered upward and she hissed when his thumb smoothed away the makeup that hid his mark on her throat. She fought not to tremble as his fingers ghosted over the permanent puncture wounds sending shards of sensation straight to her belly. Only a mated pair, such as the two of them, would have his and her bite marks on their necks. No amount of saliva would heal them. Humans would be oblivious to its meaning but other vampires would recognize it as a territorial display. And Philip was _highly_ territorial over her. She turned her head away, biting down on her bottom lip.

"Are you embarrassed by me?" The words left her lips before she even realized what she was about to say.

His thumb paused in the gentle caressing of her throat. And then, with a furious snarl, Philip spun her around with such violence that she recoiled from him sending her back pressing against the drawer of her boudoir. In the next moment his mouth found hers and his voice echoed inside her head.

_Never. **Never!**_ His impassioned cry filled her head. His mouth became fierce as he nipped and tugged at her lips, his oh-so sharp fangs piercing her plump bottom lip and his tongue licking hungrily at the bright red drops of blood that beaded there. His thumb caressed over his mark on her throat, his long fingers cupping the back of her head, causing her to arch forward with a cry. He teased her with the promise of his teeth.

She loved the feel of his teeth on her throat, the tips of his fangs pricking the delicate skin that met between the curve of her neck and her shoulder. When he finally bit down, piercing her flesh, and began drinking her blood, his cool tongue laving at the life-giving liquid, their minds connected and the bond flared exquisitely between the two of them. Her nerves sizzled with delicious pleasure until she threw her head back, her hair spilling down her back in gentle waves, her pupils dilating, a gasp emerging from her lips, and she lifted her hands to grip his shoulders. He gripped her waist and pulled her hips forward as he angled his body against hers.

_I don't deserve him,_ thought a distant part of her brain. She _didn't_ deserve him. He deserved someone like Hoshiko, an exotic beauty from the islands of Japan where everyone in England from the queen to the lowliest of peasants marveled at the princess. He deserved someone like Valka, a golden-haired blue-eyed Viking warrior woman who earned the respect of her people. He deserved someone like Adelia, his beautiful white-skinned black-haired melodious-voiced vampire companion for over a hundred years. He deserved someone _far better_ than her.

Sirius Black's words tormented her. In this day and age 'bloodsucker' did not mean what it once did but Black made her remember a time when she would have given everything to be anything but a vampire. She would never allow him to get away with calling her children something so vulgar but _she_ couldn't help take the words to heart. Her children would grow up proud of their heritage. They would never doubt themselves or revile their natures as she once (and sometimes still) did.

Phil's lips suckled greedily at her neck and his tongue left a wicked trail along the side of her throat. He knew exactly what to do to pull her dark thoughts back toward him. He didn't like her thinking of anyone except him.

_That's better,_ he said with a soft chuckle that vibrated in his chest like a growl. _No room for anyone in there except **me**. Leave Black to me._

She stiffened. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. How . . .?

_Julie,_ he chided her gently, nuzzling lovingly against her neck. _You and I have been mated for nearly 500 years. You are still so surprised that I know what it is you're thinking. You're not a very good liar, for one thing. I can tell that something's bothering you just from the look on your face. You can't hide from **me**, mate. _

She snapped her teeth at him.

He drew back, licking a few lingering droplets of blood from her throat, but kept his larger body pressed against hers. "I hate it when you're upset," he said, his voice deeper than usual as he nipped at the shell of her ear. "I want to sink my teeth into Black's throat and drain him dry for that reason alone but it would be very bad manners to eat a guest, don't you think?"

Her lips twitched and she quickly covered her mouth to stifle her soft laughter.

"Tomorrow night," he continued, his voice sending shivers down her spine, "I'm going to take you hunting. I'll book the suite at your favourite hotel. Sev and Sarai won't mind watching the twins for a day or two. Besides," he added, his violet eyes glowing, "I love watching you kill."

Her pupils dilated.

"When was the last time you and I were able to hunt together?" he asked her. "To take our time? To carefully choose and then stalk our prey?" She could hear the excitement in his voice; she could see it reflected in his violet eyes. The urge to give in to their darker natures, to let loose their bloodlust and hunt their human prey like the lions stalked the gazelles in the plains of Africa. "To _enjoy_ the thrill of the hunt?"

"You always enjoy the hunt, my love," she informed him regally.

He grinned at her, his fangs stained with her blood.

"True," he said, "but a slow hunt is so much preferable to the quick 'slash-and-grab' of every other night."

"A long drawn out hunt would be fun," she agreed slowly. "But . . ."

Phil lowered his head and nipped her ear, grazing the delicate shell with one of his fangs, and grinned when she rewarded him with a shudder.

"Don't fight it, Jewels," he purred. "I know you. I can feel you. You want it just as badly as I do."

"Stop teasing me, dammit," she hissed. "You've already bitten me once tonight."

"Once?" he murmured silkily. He lowered his mouth to her neck, his lips pressing gentle kisses to her soft skin. "I could bite you again." He licked her throat. "Again." He pressed his teeth to her flesh. "And again." His fangs pierced her neck.

She could bite him too, from this angle, but it would be awkward to say the least and she tended to be quite shy in the bedroom even with her husband of nearly 500 years. One of his hands slithered down her thighs to begin stroking sensually behind her knee. Her foot twitched and he gripped her calf, his fingers massaging the muscles tenderly. In an aggressive move that would have frightened her centuries ago, he lifted her into his arms and her legs wrapped around his waist to maintain her balance.

Never removing his lips from her neck he settled her gently on their enormous king-sized bed. His fingers caressing every centimeter of skin, Philip pushed her satin nightgown – a short modern thing that revealed the bare skin of her legs and tormented him because it tempted him so – up past her thighs. He pressed himself between her legs, not inside her, not yet, wanting to tempt her, to augment her pleasure and her lust as his own needs burned brighter than ever inside of him.

His hands stroked and caressed every inch of her until she made soft sounds in the back of her throat and writhed beneath him. He designed every touch to send her careening higher than before. They could feel each other's desire thanks to the power of the bond that they shared. She wanted him. He wanted her. Love tempered his primal urges. He didn't want to frighten her and he _had _done that on more than just one occasion (never on purpose; always by accident).

His tongue laved at her throat, licking the soft flesh beneath his mouth and delighting in the taste of her blood. He growled softly when her small hands tugged at the belt of his slacks and within moments his bare skin brushed against hers. He entered her slowly, tenderly, always aware of the expression on her face, never wanting to harm her.

She stared up at him, her hazel eyes glowing with the beautiful colours of the earth, a deep hunter green with a small ring of earth brown around her slit pupils. He caught her lips with his. This kiss, unlike the passionate one from earlier, was filled with tenderness and love; it was gentle. Her body quivered beneath him and her movement freed him as well.

His voice, a rumble of pleasure, filled her head as the two of them lay together, she dropping kisses to his chest. _You. I deserve **you**. Not Hoshiko. Not Valka. Not Adelia. **You.** You are not just my wife. You are the mother of my children. You are my mate. And I love you._

**_LJS:_** Please review! Thank you for reading.


	6. Moon Called

**6**

**Moon Called**

Phil lay awake until the early hours of the morning.

His mate slept soundly; he could tell because of the fact that her body remained perfectly still. She did not inhale and exhale, breathing, as they did while in the presence of their human family. No nightmares plagued her mind, for which he found himself immensely grateful. Occasionally, he knew that she would suffer from terrible nightmares to the point where she would awaken and lash out violently. Even though she rarely suffered from her night terrors anymore he thought it might be prudent to ask Smidgen to help her rid herself of them permanently. She may have faced her demons, quite literally, centuries ago but the monsters sometimes still held sway over her.

He trailed his fingers across the pale, smooth flesh of her shoulder, remembering that less than a month ago, her skin had been gray and lined with those tiny black spider-like veins of the poisonous Black Trillium. The unicorn may have healed her, for which he would be eternally grateful for, but it would be a very long time before she reached peak condition once again. Either he had to take her hunting or he had to hunt for her because she desperately needed blood. Neither of them managed to hunt their human prey since arriving at Hogwarts in mid-June. His own desire for blood paled in comparison to the hunger he could feel his mate suffering from. He wouldn't allow her blood lust to rise much higher. He couldn't. His instincts to provide for his weakened mate and children dominated him.

She stirred a little bit when the possessiveness that made his eyes glow fiercely in the dark traveled along their bond and surrounded her. She tilted her head slightly to the side, her lashes lifting just enough to reveal a shimmer of colour. Her voice sounded soft and husky with sleep but he could hear the subtle cadences of the natural purr that filled every word she spoke when she murmured, "Phil?"

"Go back to sleep, my Star," he gently urged her.

"What time is it?"

"Not yet dawn," he promised her. "Now, hush and go back to sleep."

She did.

For a moment, just a moment, he reveled in the delicious rage that caused his eyes to shift from violet to an eerie shade of crimson. He silently vowed that he would find the humans responsible for attempting to murder his mate and children and he would kill them all. His lips pulled back to expose his lethally sharp fangs. He had recognized three of the five vampire hunters that dared to attack his family before Julie managed to kill one of them _after_ being staked with a crossbow bolt. Most hunters knew better than to attack _him_ because, once they did, everything chivalrous – everything _human_ – about him vanished in the wake of the powerful, ancient master vampire that he was.

Even in her sleep, his tender hearted mate reached out to him, her tranquility flowing through their bond until his anger receded and he basked in the peace that only she could bring him. She wasn't an Omega – only a werewolf could be an Omega – but she had the same soothing effect that they did, which meant that the wolves tended to be as overprotective of her as he was. Neither Severus nor Sarai knew how much of a jealous bastard he became whenever another male vampire was around. He _wasn't_ perfect and he _did_ have faults just like every other person on the planet.

He loved Severus almost as deeply as he loved his sons and the younger man's vulnerabilities called out for his protection. Honour and blood bound the two of them together for he recognized a fellow warrior in the other man's spirit and he saw the young boy that existed in all grown men craving the affection of a beloved older brother or parent. Guilt tightened Phil's chest. He should have been there for Severus during his years at Hogwarts. He should have been there to guide the impressionable young man away from the seductive siren call of the dark necromancer's false promises and away from the manipulative Headmaster's hands. No matter how much his heart ached with guilt over that fact, another remained: he would never abandon his mate and her sister to the merciless Death Eaters.

He remembered his meeting with their dark necromancer vividly. He remembered how gracious Voldemort had been to him because, even twenty-three years ago, Philip's reputation as a powerful master vampire preceded him. Voldemort seemed almost charming as he spoke to Phil of equality between their two peoples, how together they could achieve greatness. His words flowed like honey over Phil's ears. He was very charismatic, gracious and charming; the ideal image of a benevolent king trying to make peace between two warring nations. Voldemort finished their meeting on his terms and offered Philip a parting gift: the virgin daughter of one of purest blooded lines in the wizarding world. Infuriated _and_ insulted, Phil refused the virgin witch and informed Voldemort that he wanted nothing to do with the war.

When Voldemort hired assassins to kill him and his family, Phil, Julie and Alice were forced into hiding. He could not have helped Severus because to do so would have meant endangering the two women who relied upon him to protect them.

He watched dawn's early light begin to climb the walls. Without his Sunstone he would feel drowsy and lethargic throughout most of the day, exhaustion fuzzing his brain during the middle of the day when the sun would be at its peak. The Sunstone wreaked havoc on a vampire's internal clock because it switched him from being a nocturnal predator to a diurnal human. Although the stone protected him from the sun with its powerful magic, Phil could still feel the sun climbing higher into the sky as the earth rotated upon its axis in its yearly cycle around the yellow star. Even with the stone he could not feel the sun's warming rays upon his skin; if he overindulged he would be able too.

As their room slowly grew brighter, he noticed a strange tingling sensation in the very tips of his fingers and toes. He gently pushed his sleeping wife away from him so that he could prop himself up into a sitting position and he stared down at his hands, flipping them back and forth. That strange sensation of pins and needles crept ever higher and he noticed that his fingers appeared to be _swelling._ A thousand years of experience and the fact that he did not want to terrify his mate prevented him from panicking. He frowned, his violet eyes narrowing into thin slits. Vampires were immune to most forms of magic; holy water, crucifixes and garlic had literally no effect on them. His lips pulled back to reveal his fangs when he noticed that his nails were turning black and jutting forward like lethally sharp claws.

His mind reeled. He did not serve the Winter Queen! He did not murder the young and the innocent. He retained his honour. And then his sons' confusion traveled along the bonds they shared.

_Papa!_ Siren's mind voice sounded high-pitched and terrified. _Papa, Setus has a **tail**!_

A tail? Vampires could not become animal shifters like Sirius Black and they could not become infected with lycanthropy because of their dead bodies (plus, hybrids did _not_ exist).

His hands now closely resembled the paws of a large feline, his claws able to extend and retract with a simple flex of his palms. Tiny hairs quickly grew and covered his paws in a thick pelt of burnished gold. (Vampires lost most of their body hair when their bodies died, which meant that Philip never needed to shave his face.)

_Easy son,_ Phil comforted Siren. His confidence and strength surrounded the two distressed boys, soothing them both physically and emotionally as the three of them underwent their transformation. _Whatever is happening to you and Setus is also happening to me._

His jaws started to ache. The bones in his face started to shift, stretching forward, causing his nose to flatten and his incisors to grow into a bottom set of fangs. He could feel his tongue thinning, flattening, as ridges developed in the roof of his mouth, the strange combination of taste and smell that all cats had. He wrinkled his nose, his lips pulling back to expose an impressive array of teeth, when growing whiskers tickled the sensitive skin there. At the same time, he could feel his hair, normally shoulder length, begin to thicken, the silken strands becoming coarse, an impressive mane falling around his shoulders and his back.

His sons' confusion melted away into mischievousness when they discovered just what, exactly, they had become.

_Won't Mama be surprised when she wakes up and sees you, eh, Papa?_ Setus teased his father.

Phil shot an anxious look toward his mate but she remained sleeping peacefully on her side. He did _not_ want her to wake up terrified due to the confusing emotions rolling through the familial bond they shared; she would panic.

He fell forward as his spine aligned his hips to a new quadrupedal position forcing him to lie on his belly. The base of his spine tingled before a tail began to emerge, a thick black tuft at the very tip. He tucked his hind legs underneath him and rested his front paws flat on the mattress, assuming a sphinx-like pose, watching over his mate as she slept.

Tenderness flooded his undead heart at the sight of his wife sleeping soundly with her back pressed against his side. His precious Star thought so very little of herself when he thought the world of her and he knew that their children adored her, too. _My Star,_ he thought, lowering his head and nuzzling her gently. He knew that she aspired to be a warrior maiden like Sarai; she saw in the half-fae woman traits that she herself lacked: self-confidence, a strong will, independence. Julie depended on him for everything. As her mate, it was his job to ensure that he could provide her with everything that she needed; and all she needed from him was his unconditional love.

His love for her had not diminished over the centuries; it grew into something far deeper than anything he could have ever imagined. If the Black Trillium had succeeded in killing her, if she had died in his arms before the unicorn healed her, he would have destroyed the world in his rage and grief. He would have damned his immortal soul in his quest for vengeance. _Nothing_ would have been able to stand in his way. He would have shown the world a brand new monster, a monster that drank the blood of thousands of people and left their carcasses to rot in the streets and he would have basked in their pain and their fear and their horror. Not even Titania would have been able to stop him.

He absolutely hated the doubt and the lack of self-worth that had filled her eyes last night; it too closely resembled the eyes of the broken eighteen-year-old he had met in 1560. A growl rumbled in his throat, unbidden. He hated the fact that, after four hundred years together, she had tried to hide the hurt she felt from Sirius' damning words from him. 'Bloodsucker' he had called her. Philip visibly shook with the rage that caused his eyes to glow a hellish red once more. Sirius had dared to call his Star 'bloodsucker'. Calling a vampire a bloodsucker was equivalent to calling a witch like Hermione a Mudblood. He would definitely be having a talk with Sirius about that. He would not tolerate anyone insulting his timid little mate.

She was his Star. He remembered the very first time he saw her, the very first time their eyes met from across the ballroom, and he remembered how his undead heart seemed to beat for the very first time in nigh on five centuries. True, her beauty would never compare to that of Queen Titania or Sarai but, in that moment, he remembered thinking of her as the most beautiful young woman he had ever seen. Like the stars that guided lost souls home, she guided him to her; to him, she shone brighter than any star in the night sky. She virtually glowed with radiant light, all-encompassing warmth that called him to her. He remembered thinking of her every day during the nine months he had spent at Hogwarts guarding Harry, Draco and Severus. She was his Star, burning brightly, loving deeply, and always guiding him home.

He wondered that God had given him such a gift in the form of his shy, gentle-hearted wife. She thought that he deserved someone far better than her but he knew that _she_ deserved someone better than _him_. He remembered once, a long time ago, speaking with another vampire, one two thousand years his senior, and the words that stuck true to his soul. Someone as old and as powerful as he should never be given someone to love.

For Julie, he would destroy the world.

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

It was the warmth of sunlight streaming across her face through the French doors that opened up on to an enormous balcony that overlooked Snape Manor's grounds that woke her. She stretched her arms over her head with a groan and curled her toes until a delicious sizzle of energy flooded her veins. She arched her head back. The smooth skin between her shoulder blades where her wings were retracted tingled. She could feel Philip's cool breath on the back of her neck but sometime during the night he relaxed his hold from her because he no longer held her against him. Her eyes closed, she allowed her lips to curl upward in the beginnings of a tender smile.

"Good morning, my love," she murmured. She reached her hand back, her fingers reaching to cup his jaw. His tongue, dry and sandpapery, licked against the side of her throat. She reacted instinctively. Her eyes flew open, her pupils contracting, her smile transforming into a snarl that revealed her elongated and lethally sharp canines. In the blink of an eye, she rolled off the bed and landed in a crouch on the floor, an animal's warning hiss escaping her lips.

_Easy, beloved,_ Phil's mind voice soothed her.

She blinked and the need to sink her fangs into warm flesh evaporated just as quickly as it arose inside of her. Rising, she placed her hands on her hips and stared, wide-eyed, at her husband. He gazed right back at her, his violet eyes filled with quiet solemnity and gentle compassion.

A lion – a freaking lion! – lay upon her husband's side of the bed. She knew that Philip had traveled to the Dark Continent many centuries before he met her but she, herself, had never been there. The closest she had ever come to a lion had been at the London Zoo a few years ago when her twins had been young enough to enjoy those kinds of outings. When she first saw the big cat, she thought the lion to be the most magnificent of all the felines in the animal kingdom. Perhaps Siren and Setus forced her to watch The Lion King one too many times. _This_ lion did not resemble any animated character in a child's film; this was the real thing.

She found the lion far more intimidating than her 6'4 husband; perhaps it was because of the fact that his fangs were longer than her index fingers. He remained motionless upon the mattress, watching her, waiting to see what she would do. He was no mindless beast. She could feel Phil's gentle compassion pouring through their bond and, in return, he could feel her anxiety but he waited for her to process the situation. His body language was relaxed. If he felt agitated or even angry or threatened he would not be lying calmly on top of their bed.

She knew he wouldn't care. She _knew_ it. But her fingers trembled when she reached out a hand toward him her curiosity beginning to override her anxiety; besides, with his calmness radiating through their bond, she couldn't be afraid of him. A gentle rumble, not quite a purr but not quite a growl either, reverberated in his chest as the lion closed the distance between her outstretched hand and his muzzle. Her fingers smoothed outward at the feeling of soft fur underneath the pads of her fingertips.

"How is this possible?" she whispered. Phil's enormous mane and the tip of his tail were as black as the silken hair she so loved to run her fingers through. His fur gleamed tawny gold in the sunlight that filtered through French windows overlooking the grounds. The whiskers on his muzzle tickled the sensitive skin underneath her wrist as she stroked him tenderly. "Our magic is elemental, not transformational or illusionary like the Fae and Siren and Setus are too young to be able to pull off such a prank."

Phil's ears pricked forward and he swiveled his head around to stare intently at their bedroom door. _Speaking of our twins . . ._

Frowning slightly, Julie pulled a silken robe around her slender waist, her hands working quickly to fasten the knot. Phil growled softly in the back of his throat, the feral sound sending shivers of trepidation down her spine while, at the same time, their bond flared exquisitely between the two of them. He loved to spoil her. Over the centuries he would indulge in her every whim; from buying her million dollar horses across all of Europe to the art studio he built for her in the east wing of the manor. This silken robe, a beautiful periwinkle blue, hugged her body in all the right places. Her brown hair curled around her shoulders in gentle waves that shone with auburn highlights in the sunlight.

She opened the door and two four-month-old lion cubs tumbled in one after the other. She couldn't help the tender smile that curled her lips upward to reveal her fangs. She rarely displayed her teeth in front of anyone except her husband and her twins. Phil enjoyed displaying his teeth; he could care less about what others thought of him being a vampire. He liked reminding Black of that fact. Sev and Sarai didn't care and their children found their uncle's fangs cool when he chose to bare them.

Spots adorned her cubs' legs and bellies while their fur felt baby-soft to the touch. They looked adorable! Setus had fallen on top of his brother and struggled to push himself up while biting down on Siren's ear. Both looked up at the sound of her sweet laughter.

_Hi Mama!_ Setus cried excitedly.

Chuckling, she knelt and helped Setus off his brother. Siren shot his twin an evil glare that only emphasized his adorability because a cub that small could not appear intimidating no matter how hard he tried. Setus squirmed in his mother's arms, wriggling and twisting no matter how gently she held him with her hands. His tiny fangs didn't hurt her whenever he accidentally managed to catch one of her fingers in his mouth; his paws batted playfully at her. Making a soft mewling sound, Siren catapulted himself at his brother and the two of them playfully fought each other for their mother's quiet hands.

She didn't react when Phil landed beside her and he curled his feline body around her, his tail flicking playfully across her knees.

"Did you two do this?" she asked her twins sternly. She used her left hand to tug Setus' tail and her right to gently push Siren onto his back where his mouth gripped her wrist.

_No, Mama,_ Siren said.

She looked over at her husband. "How could this have happened, then?"

_Hmm . . . if I recall correctly, Harry mentioned that Molly Weasley's twins Fred and George work for Mr. Zonko. The two of them could be responsible for this._ Phil suggested. He swung his massive head around and started nuzzling against her cheek, gentle rumbling growls reverberating in his chest, his tongue washing her face with leonine kisses.

Siren pounced on top of his brother and bit down on his left ear. _That's gross, Papa!_

Both father and mother laughed at the disgust that filled his voice.

"Gross, huh," Julie chimed. She wrapped her arms around her cub and pulled him close to her breast where she smothered him with kisses.

_Mama!_ Siren cried, wriggling indignantly in her arms, but she continued to drop kiss after kiss to his golden head. Her fingers found the ticklish spots on the sides of his ribs and she started to tickle him mercilessly. _Mama – ha ha – that ti-tickles! S-stop it. I'll be good._

With sunlight streaming through the windows, flooding their master bedroom with bright, golden light, she found it hard to hold on to Sirius' cruel words of the night before. Most wizards – hell, most _humans_ – reacted with fear when they learned the truth about vampires having lived amongst them for years. Humans naturally feared what they did not understand; it wasn't stupidity or weakness; it was just their nature. Very few kept an open mind in regards to the preternatural beings that they shared the world with and those that did usually found themselves mated to an immortal. Emma had been the first witch Julie had met in a long time that had had an open mind in regards to the dark world that belonged to the vampires. It was why Lionel had known that she was his mate. Sirius' reaction didn't surprise her. He was behaving the way all wizards would. It was why she avoided the Ministry of Magic at all costs.

She pushed his damning words to the back of her mind and focused on the joy of playing with her husband and children.

_Later:_

"Molly, that's really _not_ necessary," Julie informed the matronly witch as she watched Mrs. Weasley bustle about the kitchen preparing breakfast for everyone.

"It's no trouble at all, dear," Mrs. Weasley said and Julie smiled at the endearment; Molly didn't seem to care that the vampire was actually 400 years her elder and treated her as warmly as she did the others. "I've been cooking for nine people the past twenty-some odd years of my life, what's a few more? Now, why don't you sit down and I'll prepare you a cup of coffee, hmm?"

Julie started to protest a second time – after all, _she_ was the hostess and she should be catering to her guests, not the other way around – but Mrs. Weasley gently pushed her toward one of the unoccupied seats at the kitchen table and made a tsking sound when she tried to object again. Knowing that the other woman would not bend in the slightest, Julie relented with quiet grace and took her seat at the head of the table. The table practically groaned underneath Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking: pancakes drizzled in maple syrup, freshly-made waffles with whipped cream and strawberries and kiwis, oven baked bread just warm enough to melt a wad of butter on, plates of bacon and sausages, eggs of every variety. The smells alone would cause anyone's mouth to water but the scent of food had long ago lost its appeal for her; she could no longer taste or digest it.

She listened to the conversations floating around the table but she watched Remus Lupin warily. Tonight was the full moon. She could smell the heavy musk that every male wolf secreted from his pores directly before and directly after the night of the full moon. She could smell his testosterone and aggression levels spiking in his body. But beneath that heavy musk, testosterone and aggression, she could smell his terror.

She swore that he appeared much bulkier than he had the day before and that it was because of the adrenaline rush he must be feeling. His eyes lightened to his own wolf's amber. The moon called to him, stirring his desires and pumping his blood until the sweet sound of it rushing through his veins echoed in Julie's head.

Remus did not frighten her; he _couldn't_ frighten her, not in the safety of her own home, not with Philip being the most dominant male in the entire manor and certainly not when her children needed her. Her children. Werewolves, like their four-legged cousins, preferred to hunt easier prey like rabbits and deer; it was rare for a wolf to attack a vampire but it was _not_ unheard of for them to sometimes hunt down and kill a fledgling. This rarely happened anymore and, if it did, the cause was usually due to a lone wolf trying to establish a territory, impress a female or join the local pack. There were no packs in the United Kingdom and she and Phil were in good standing with those that lived in North America. Remus, in every aspect, was a lone wolf.

Remus had already proven how unpredictable he was during the full moon. He had attacked Severus twice – once as a maturing adolescent male and again as a fully grown werewolf. Not only had he attacked Severus, but he had also attacked Harry, Ron and Hermione, three thirteen-year-olds that couldn't possibly defend themselves against him. That bothered her. She knew that it bothered her mate immensely. Phil would never forgive them their treatment of Severus during their school days and she couldn't blame him because she agreed with him. Remus could have killed Severus so very easily on that long ago night when Sirius tricked him. Remus could have killed Harry, Ron or Hermione just as easily seventeen years later when he went to confront Sirius and Peter.

She absolutely refused to take any chances with her children and she would ensure that Remus transformed comfortably and safely in his own chambers. She did not trust him to wander Snape Manor's grounds unaccompanied.

_Mama! Mama!_

Julie glanced up at the sound of claws skittering against her ceramic floor and saw Siren and Setus slipping and sliding in her direction. She couldn't help herself and lifted a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggles. Setus was sprawled on top of his brother and Siren was trying desperately to push him off.

"You two imps," she cried delightedly, her joy at her sons' antics causing her eyes to glitter and her lips to curl up in a true, genuine smile.

_Ha!_ Setus cried triumphantly to his brother. _I **told **you it would work._

_Nah ah,_ Siren protested. His ears flattened on his head and he struggled to push his brother off of him. _I did._

_Did not._

_Did too._

_Did not times infinity._

"Boys," Julie scolded, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice, "that's enough."

Both lion cubs looked up at her, their father's eyes staring back at her. Her smile widened to reveal her fangs. She then knelt down beside the two of them and lifted Setus off of Siren, her hands playfully tugging their little tails.

"What the bloody hell," Sirius growled.

"Oh, relax Sirius," Petunia scolded him. "They won't hurt you."

Indeed, the two cubs completely ignored Sirius as they played with their mother. Sometimes their claws would scratch against her skin or they would grip her wrists or hands with their teeth but she clearly didn't mind.

"But . . . what caused them to transform?" Hermione asked curiously, peering over the table to stare down at the cubs.

"That's our fault," Fred said.

"Although we didn't know it would turn them into lions," George added.

"It was only supposed to turn them into cats, you see."

Glancing over her shoulder at them, Julie continued to smile. "It's a clever bit of magic, lads," she praised them. "But I should warn you that it might not be the wisest decision to prank my husband. Philip is very old and with great age comes great power. Magic seldom works the way you want it to, especially upon a vampire or werewolf."

Severus raised his eyebrows at her; she managed to hold his gaze for a count of three before dropping her eyes and focusing on her children.

"You turned Phil into a lion," she continued, her fingers absently tickling one of the cubs' bellies. "A very _big_ lion."

"So where is he?" Dudley asked.

_Outside,_ Siren spoke up.

_Hunting for you, Mama,_ Setus added helpfully. He rolled over on to his belly and growled at his mother in the back of his throat before he pounced in to her arms.

"He's _hunting_?" Severus demanded. "In broad daylight?"

"He's probably stalking a deer, Sev," Julie soothed him. "Trust me; we would have heard by now if there was a lion prowling the streets."

_Yup, yup, yup!_ Siren cried bouncing on all four paws.

Smiling and rolling her eyes heavenward, Julie merely shook her head at her sons.

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

_11:30 p.m._

_Just past moonrise. _

Sirius crept as quietly as he dared down the deserted hallway, pausing every few feet to stop and listen to make sure that no one happened to be leaving their room and would find him skulking about. He sneered at the thought of being forced to sneak around in order to free Remus from his prison. At Hogwarts, Dumbledore and the other professors would have ignored him if they saw him and James sneaking along the corridors toward the Whomping Willow (not that they _did_ see them, mind you, because of James' invisibility cloak). Snape Manor was a different story entirely. Severus still thought of his prank with Moony as an attempt on his life (which it _hadn't_ been. The slimy git should have been minding his own business.). Philip . . . well, he honestly didn't know what Philip thought about him and _that_ caused him to be cautious. He did _not_ want to encounter the lion while he tiptoed about.

About an hour ago, as everyone sat in the enormous family room, Julie stood gracefully from her seat where her twins cuddled in her lap and quietly asked that Remus follow her. She returned several minutes later and explained that Remus was settled comfortably in his room for the evening. Sirius fought to control his rage at the knowledge that even here Remus was being treated like a dangerous animal. He wanted to flay the female vampire and he could taste the harmful words on the tip of his tongue but that damned lion merely _looked_ at him and Sirius felt his blood run cold.

He stopped in front of Remus' room, glancing quickly to the left and then to right to insure that no one could sneak up on him. He could hear the sound of an animal pacing back and forth across the length of the room. It hurt him knowing that people felt the need to imprison his friend for a condition that was not his fault, that they caged him, that they locked him up as if he were a mindless beast without thought or control. Moony had never hurt anyone. And he was always fine after he hunted and feasted on a fresh kill. Surely, there were deer around here that he could hunt?

Sirius curled his fingers around the doorknob and twisted the handle – only to mutter a blistering curse when the door refused to budge. Hoping it was a simple locking spell, he withdrew his wand and, pointing it at the door, murmured, "_Alohomora_."

The lock flashed a brilliant blue but when he tried the handle again, the door still did not budge.

"Son of a . . ." he trailed off, cursing.

The sound of Moony pacing back and forth stopped abruptly and Sirius heard him whine softly.

"I'm coming, Moony, I'm coming," he muttered, staring up and down the door, trying to figure out how to unlock it. An idea popped into his head. He decided to try it. "Okay, stand back, Moony," he said. Raising his wand again, he pointed the tip at the very center of the door and said, "_Incendio_."

The door erupted into flames of red and gold that lit the entire hall in a blaze of colour before dying down moments later. The damned door remained in its place, scorch marks adorning the wood.

Sirius actually growled with frustration. "Damn it."

Behind the door, Moony began to howl.

"Shut up, Moony!" Sirius hissed quickly turning his head to see if the wolf's howls would attract anyone's attention. "I can't think with you making all that noise."

But Moony didn't stop howling.

He was running out of ideas and if Moony didn't shut up he would attract someone's attention; namely a violet-eyed lion that Sirius did not want to run across.

_You're an ex-Auror, Sirius Black,_ he chided himself. _Come on, now, **think!** Alohomora and Incendio haven't worked. What kind of magic would a vampire use against a werewolf? Silver?_

He muttered a spell but the door did not glow to indicate any trace of silver or metal other than the handle and the hinges.

_Damn it, if it's not that then what could it **be?**_

He tried a simple melting spell on the handle and, when that didn't work, on the hinges. He tried a freezing spell, _Bombarda Maxima,_ and a variety of other spells all to no avail. All of his magical spell casting excited the entrapped wolf and Moony started to bang against the door in clear demand that he be released.

"I'm _trying_, damn it," Sirius exploded. "The effing thing just won't budge! I don't know what kind of magic she used, Moony, but this door isn't opening any time soon."

Moony snarled, a sound that echoed in the back of Sirius' head and caused the hair on his arms to stand on end. The door shuddered violently when the wolf threw himself against it. He slammed into it a second time. A sharp crack rent the air. The third time he struck against the door, it shattered into pieces of wood that covered the floor in split beams and slivers. Sirius quickly transformed into Padfoot before the wolf finished shaking loose splinters from his gray fur.

Moony trotted over to Padfoot and pressed his muzzle against that of the other canine before licking his chin in submission, acknowledging him as Alpha of his pack. Padfoot's tail wagged and he nipped Moony affectionately. He turned, knowing that the werewolf would follow him, and led the way down the grand staircase and out the backdoor (which he had left open a crack).

Outside, the full moon shone in a sky riddled with stars that sparkled brighter than any Swarovski crystal, pale beams of silvery light filtering through the boughs of the trees that bordered Snape Manor. Padfoot's ears pricked forward. He could hear the soft sound of water lapping at the edges of the pool and the stream that reflected the weeping willow and cherry blossom trees. Fireflies darted in between the low-hanging branches of the trees, crickets chirped a sweet serenade and frogs croaked an encore. The air carried the scents of blooming flowers, of moist earth and a salty tang from the North Sea. The grass dipped underneath his paws and bounced right back up when he moved onward.

With a yip of excitement, Moony took off at a gallop toward the forest's edge, his tail raised high, his ears up and his tongue lolling. Padfoot raced after him and the two of them tousled one another roughly, mock growls rumbling in their chests as they playfully bit and snapped their fangs at each other. Moony's fur gleamed silver in the moonlight and Padfoot's shone blue-black. The two canine friends finally stopped wrestling when they reached outer treeline of the beginning of the forest.

Moony didn't hesitate but Padfoot did; he didn't know these woods like he knew the Forbidden Forest back at Hogwarts. Although he doubted that this forest housed the highly dangerous acromantulas, he still didn't want to end up lost in the moors of Northern Yorkshire. Moony yipped, a sharp sound that drew Padfoot's attention and the canine Animagus flinched involuntarily like a scolded dog. He shook himself. _He_ was alpha. _Not_ Moony. He raised his tail and flattened his ears while his lips pulled back to reveal his teeth as he growled at the werewolf. Moony flinched, dropping his gaze submissively, and lowered his tail and tilted his head to expose his throat.

Now that dominance had been re-established between the two pack mates, Padfoot trotted forward and entered the forest.

The moon climbed ever higher in the sky. Padfoot trotted along a deer path with Moony close behind him. He kept his head lowered, his nose only inches above the moist earth, as he sniffed along the trail for any fresh scent of prey. His ears swiveled this way and that as he listened to the natural sounds of the forest; the chirping crickets and croaking frogs quieted until he and Moony passed, the animals sensing much larger predators in the vicinity. This trail was covered in thick brush on either side of him, leaves and brambles snagging at his fur. He ignored it. The path began to gently slant upward. Padfoot's ears pricked forward. He could hear the sweet melody of a waterfall up ahead. After several more minutes of climbing, the ground finally leveled out and Padfoot found himself standing on the edge of a small ravine about 15 feet deep.

Moony stopped beside him, the two canine companions brushing each other's flanks with their tails.

_What . . . what's smell?_ Padfoot wondered. He tilted his head upward, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled that strange smell. Beside him, Moony growled low in his throat. He glanced at the werewolf but the wolf paid him no mind because his attention was focused on the two lion cubs playing alone by the side of the water's edge. The fur along Moony's muzzle started to bristle and the hair along his neck stood on end, his hackles rising, as a growl continued to rumble in his chest.

Moony took a step forward, his yellow-gold eyes beginning to glow in the ambient darkness. His growl transformed into a snarl, his lips pulling back to reveal an impressive array of fangs. He recognized the two young lion cubs as the fledgling vampire twins that his alpha abhorred. Their natural scent flooded his nostrils, almost similar to the feline scent they gave off in their current forms; it clogged the back of his throat until he wanted to gag. He took a step forward, gazing down hungrily at the two abandoned cubs. Rationale and logic did not apply to the werewolf because it was his primitive instincts that controlled him on this night. He had no way of knowing that their father prowled along the edge of the ravine directly across from Moony and Padfoot.

Moony continued to stare at the four-month-old lion cubs. He did not know that saliva dripped from his jaws as he watched the two of them play a game of tag. What better way to impress his alpha than to lay the two cubs at his feet? After all, wolves would sometimes attack mountain lions if one wandered too close to pack boundaries. This forest was now a part of their boundaries wasn't it? He couldn't smell the scent of any other vampire except for those two twins down there (and because Phil happened to be downwind of him).

Before Padfoot knew what Moony intended to do, the werewolf launched himself forward and leapt down the 15 feet to land in a crouch next to the ravine's rock walls. Siren and Setus had heard the sound of rock tumbling from above and both of them glanced in that direction. Moony stalked forward, his eyes fixated upon the two lion cubs.

_Moony, no!_ Padfoot roared but, too late, the werewolf gathered himself up and threw himself at the defenseless cubs. Siren and Setus mewed in terror as they scrambled to their feet and ran in the opposite direction of the charging werewolf. Padfoot licked his lips and whimpered in the back of his throat. _Maybe . . . maybe Moony's just playing with them,_ he tried to console himself but he knew that, deep down, he only fooled himself. One of the cubs squealed in pain. Padfoot pinned his ears flat against his head. He stood atop the ravine, too uncertain, too terrified to move.

Moony reveled in the taste of blood on his tongue, of his teeth tearing through soft, tender flesh, of something living squirming for freedom in his powerful jaws. Setus screamed in agony, his tiny paws flailing madly as he struggled against the powerful jaws crushing his ribs. Pain, excruciating pain, unlike anything the little vampire had ever experienced before made his vision threaten to tunnel in. The next instant Setus found himself soaring head over heels through the air. He landed with a thud several feet away, dazed, breathless, agony shooting up the backs of his legs and pinching his ribs every time he inhaled.

_Ow, ow, ow,_ he thought, wincing as he slowly rose to all four paws. Shaking his head from side to side, he wondered what would have caused the werewolf the release him. His ears flattened and he mewed softly in distress at the sight that befell his eyes: Siren clung to the werewolf's head, his tiny claws digging into the wolf's eyes and his small fangs tearing shreds of its ear.

The werewolf reared and managed to dislodge Siren, sending him flying through the air, heading directly for the deep end of the small pool. Something huge and powerful caught the cub before he connected with the water.

_Papa!_ Setus cried, recognizing the enormous lion as his father.

His father set Siren down beside him and then stood protectively over them. From beneath their father's legs, Setus and Siren peered fearfully at the werewolf that paced back and forth in front of them. The werewolf looked enraged with his ears flat against his skull, blood soaking his silvery gray fur, his lips pulled back to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth, his tail erect behind him. Their father growled low in this throat and adjusted his stance over them. In a movement too quick for the twins to follow, Moony launched himself forward and their father rose to meet him.

_Go!_ Phil's voice boomed in their heads. _Go, children. Find someplace to hide until I come and find you. _

_But . . . papa—_ Setus trembled, watching as his father met the werewolf with a sickening slamming together of bodies. The ferocious snarls, the enraged growls and agonized whimpers hurt his delicate ears.

_You must go, Setus. Run back to the manor. _He urged them. He clamped his jaws around the scruff of the werewolf's neck and tossed him backward a dozen feet but that did not keep him down for long. Moony, infuriated now, charged him. _Find your mother. You stay with her until I come for all three of you, do you understand?_

Setus mewed pathetically, whimpering when Moony's jaws clamped around his father's foreleg and Philip roared in a combination of pain and fury. _Yes._

_Then go!_

Siren nudged his brother urgently from behind. _Come on!_

But Setus could barely walk because of the pain that assaulted him. He leaned heavily against his brother, his blood matting his golden fur, dripping from the puncture wounds on his ribcage. Siren, frantic with worry, mewed and struggled to help his twin. Glancing around frantically, he saw a big black dog standing 15 feet above him. Terror engulfed him.

**_MAMA!_**

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

Julie scrambled out of her bed and ran for the balcony doors, thrusting them open, and her wings emerging to their full length and catching the wind as she threw herself up and over the railing. Panic caused the edge of her vision to turn black. She could _feel_ her sons' terror as if it were her own. She could _feel_ Phil's fear, pain and rage as if it were her own. Her own fear bled away in order to fuel her mounting anger. She swore that she would kill the person responsible for frightening her children so, for enraging her mate in such a way. Her eyes shifted to a bloody crimson. Her lips pulled back to reveal her fangs.

Her wings flared and she found herself climbing several feet higher in the night sky as she flew toward the ravine only a few miles from the manor. Her sharp eyes caught movement down below her. Sirius stood at the very edge of the ravine seemingly transfixed by the sight of Remus and Philip clashing like two warring titans. She angled her wings slightly and then adjusted her body until she was diving from 30 feet in the air. Her body slammed into Remus, throwing the wolf a dozen feet away.

"Philip!" she cried, running toward him at the sight of his bleeding foreleg. "Where are the twins? What happened? Are you all right?"

Before he could answer her, the lion snarled and knocked her off her feet as he rushed to meet the oncoming werewolf.

_I think Siren and Setus are hiding in that log over there,_ he snarled, engaging in battle once again with Moony. _Get them out of here, Julie!_

She ran toward the fallen over log, pulling her wings close to her body, and fell to her hands and knees. She ignored the mud that covered her bare legs and hands. She crawled forward, desperate to find her little ones.

"Setus? Siren?" She crooned. "It's Mama, my darlings. Mama's here."

Even a werewolf would have trouble finding the two cowering lion cubs in the surrounding darkness that filled the log but _she_ could see clear as day. She crawled forward, her hands and knees slipping and sliding in the mud underneath her. She could smell blood – her _sons'_ blood, could taste it on her tongue.

"Oh, baby," she breathed, her eyes welling with tears at the sight of Setus lying limply on the ground. Blood matted his golden fur. She could see fresh blood dripping from the puncture wounds that marred his body. She bit back a wail at the sight of the deep gashes that criss-crossed his rump. Siren appeared to be in slightly better condition than his twin but she re-evaluated that thought when she realized that he stared at her unblinkingly. "I'm here. Mama's here."

She reached forward, pulling her sons close and cradling them close to her breast. Setus screamed and whimpered in pain whenever she touched him.

_It hurts, Mama,_ he sobbed. _It hurts._

"I know," she whispered. "I know it hurts baby, I know."

She didn't fight the rising tide of fury that started to build inside of her. Her fangs tingled. Her mouth watered. Her eyes blazed a hellish red. She would slake her bloodlust on a billion precious droplets from the werewolf that attacked her children. She would bathe in his blood. She would paint the forest floor red with his blood. She would make him suffer an eternity of pain for every precious droplet of her sons' blood that he had spilt.

With her precious burdens cradled safely against her breast, she carefully crawled out of the rotten log. Philip prowled in front of her, guarding her and their sons from the werewolf that watched them with hot yellow eyes. Her arms tightened around her cubs. She met the wolf's eyes challengingly. Her lips pulled back to expose her fangs. She hissed warningly at him, a low, throaty sound that sounded like an actual lioness hissing.

Moony bared his teeth right back at her.

Phil added his own leonine hiss to hers.

The wolf backed down but only for the moment.

_Get them back to the manor,_ Phil commanded his mate.

Her beautiful wings – for her wings gave her an exotic, ethereal appearance – extended to their full length and with just a few gentle pumps, she hopped up on to the ledge where Padfoot stood. Philip joined her a moment later. Dog and lion stared at each other for several moments before Padfoot admitted defeat and lowered his gaze submissively. He walked beside Julie, like any obedient house pet.

None of them expected what happened next.

Moony was a submissive wolf by nature, which meant that he should have submitted to Phil's dominance when the lion bested him. Submissive wolves, like any wolf in the wild, would become aggressive when threatened; unlike the more dominant wolves that would openly attack when threatened, submissives only acted upon that aggression when no other choice presented itself. In this case Moony perceived Phil and Julie as a very real threat. The wolf was only doing what came natural to it: eradicating the threat.

The female vampire was the weakest member of the group but she protected her fledglings by holding them close to her. He would have only seconds to attack her before her mate reacted but Moony was confident; he had injured the male lion and he would not be able to move as swiftly as he normally could on all four legs.

Snarling, the werewolf launched himself up on to the edge of the ravine and ran straight for the female's unguarded back. She fell beneath him with a cry of surprise, her wings flaring to their full length on either side of her in the form of a protective shield. The wolf snarled at her. She couldn't rise with him standing upon her back, his jaws inches away from her neck. He lowered his head, saliva dripping from his maw, his jaws snapping open as he imagined the satisfying snap of bone and flesh when he finally broke her neck.

A savage roar echoed in his ears. The next thing he knew, Moony found that the air had been knocked from his lungs and the bones in his forelegs ached painfully. He lifted his head. He had underestimated the speed with which the lion could react. He stood over top of his mate and children, shielding them with his own body. Moony howled with frustration. He glanced over at his alpha but Padfoot remained standing where he was, staring with wide eyes at the fight taking place.

Was this some sort of test, Moony wondered as he cocked his head to the side. Why would his alpha merely watch and not join in? This was quite unlike him. Usually, Padfoot was always there whenever they hunted prey (except Prongs, of course), wanting to be the one to execute the kill. He whimpered questioningly at his alpha. This was what he wanted, wasn't it? Padfoot hated the vampires; he saw them as a threat, yes, so why was he hesitating? The two of them could easily take on the lion. The female posed even less of a threat than her mate did and killing their fledglings would be easier still.

Padfoot's ears flattened on the back of his skull when he saw Moony staring at him curiously. The canine Animagus suddenly felt sick to his stomach. The werewolf was waiting for him to lead the attack against Phil and his family. He whimpered and pawed the ground uncertainly. _Oh, Merlin. Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin,_ he thought desperately. Yes, he hated the vampires, Phil in particular, but did he truly want them dead?

Moony decided for him.

He lunged at Philip and then darted out of the way of the lion's enormous paw. Again he darted forward and then back, always just managing to evade the feline's swiping paw or snarling muzzle. His golden eyes flicked behind the lion to stare at the female vampire slowly pulling herself to her feet. As if she could feel his gaze upon her, she spun around and lowered herself into a crouch, her wings extended on either side of her, her eyes as bright as fresh blood, her fangs gleaming white in the moonlight. With speed that startled Padfoot, Moony ran around the lion, again evading him, and ran full tilt toward the cubs hidden only a few feet behind their mother.

Moony barreled into Julie because she had flung herself in front of the charging werewolf and she fell beneath him again. Moony forgot about the cubs. He lowered his head. Julie screamed a high-pitched sound filled with pain and fear, when his fangs pierced her flesh. He yanked his head to the side and a sickening crack rent the air followed by another scream. Blood dripped from her broken arm, staining Moony's teeth and flooding his nostrils; it pooled against her silken nightgown. The werewolf bit down harder.

Phil threw his head back and roared in frustration at his inability to protect his mate. He couldn't. He couldn't. If he attacked the werewolf, he might actually tear Julie's arm off. Her third scream pushed him over the edge. His pupils contracted. His mind traveled back over 400 years ago when he heard her screaming like that because of an entirely different reason. It was no longer the werewolf he saw on top of her; it was Nathanial. Her scream sounded as agonized then as it did now.

He glanced at Sirius.

_Do something!_ The vampire demanded.

Padfoot merely stepped back, tucking his tail between his legs.

Her screams intensified causing Philip to jerk violently forward as long ago memories resurfaced. With an almighty roar, he lunged forward.

_Severus!_

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

Severus fell to the floor in his haste to climb out of bed, his feet tangling in the sheets before he managed to right himself. Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed his wand from the bedside table and threw a robe over his naked chest. He glanced at the clock. _Sweet Merlin,_ he thought. _It's 4:30 a.m.!_

"What do you suppose it could be?" Sarai asked her husband as she swung her legs over the mattress.

"I don't know," he answered her, "but Philip sounded pretty desperate."

"I'm coming with you."

"Sarai . . ."

"I'm coming with you, Sev," she told him sternly. "Phil is my friend too."

Severus sighed, graciously admitting defeat to his stubborn-hearted beautiful half-fae warrior-maiden. He opened the door to his room only to step back in surprise at the sight of Harry and Draco standing before him, his eldest sons clearly as agitated as he was.

"Do you know what's going on, Dad?" Harry asked.

Severus shook his head, opened his mouth to reply and all of them froze at the agonized scream that chilled their blood.

All four of them bolted down the stairs and out through the sliding back door, past the pool and toward the edge of the forest. They all stopped dead at the sight that befell their eyes. Julie lay on her side, blood soaking her nightgown, a pair of white wings speckled with brown flecks – much like a snowy owl's wing – pulled in close to her shoulders. Her eyes glowed a hellish red and her lips revealed her fangs. Her right arm looked as if it had been torn to shreds by a wild animal or, you know, a wolf now that they looked in the direction of the creature still clutching her forearm. Her left hand pressed against the wolf's head, her fingers digging into the creature's golden eye. Philip attacked the wolf on the other side of his face and it was becoming a struggle for the wolf to maintain a grip on her arm when both of them were trying rather forcefully to blind him. Padfoot stood away from the three of them, his head hanging low and his tail tucked between his legs.

"Why are they attacking Uncle Remus?" Harry shouted, ready to lunge forward. He stilled when his father rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. He looked up at him. "Dad?"

"I think there's more going on here than we realize, Harry," he answered.

_Don't just stand there gawking,_ Philip shouted at them all. _Do **something!**_

"Dad, I don't think—" Harry began only to stop mid-sentence when his father rushed forward, wand arm raised, and shouted, "_Expelliarmus!_"

The force of the magical energy that connected with Moony startled the werewolf into releasing his death grip on Julie's arm. With one graceful pump of her wings, she lifted into the air and swung her body on top of the werewolf – like a cowboy riding an untamed mustang – and wrapped her arms around his thick neck before she plunged her fangs into his shoulder muscle.

When the wolf felt her teeth sink into his shoulder Moony went wild and started bucking like a bronco in an attempt to shake the vampire loose. He swung his head from side to side. He bucked and rolled and did everything he could think of to dislodge the vampire clinging to his back. Finally he managed to slam against a tree and Julie fell from his back, crumpling in the soft grass.

Enraged, saliva dripping from his maw, the wolf turned around and stared directly at Severus. He recognized the human's scent even though it had been many years since they had encountered each other last. He could smell the human's terror and it excited him. The human would be far easier prey than the vampire although, glancing at the fallen female, he knew that she would pose no threat to him now. Tail erect, hot wolf eyes gleaming, the wolf started padding toward the man he had first encountered as a boy. Severus raised his wand. The wolf snorted at the thought. Several meters away from the man, Moony broke out into a canter, gathering his legs underneath him, and then ran full tilt toward the dark-haired wizard. He leapt towards him—

And found himself pinned down by the female vampire a second time. She was weakening. He could smell it. In a move too quick for human eyes to follow the werewolf twisted his body from beneath her and clamped his jaws right along the seam where wing met shoulder. He bit down hard, jerking his head to the side, feeling the wing muscle begin to give way beneath his fangs.

"_Stupefy!_" Draco bellowed and a blast of silver light slammed into the werewolf momentarily freezing his limbs.

"Aunt Jewels," he cried, falling to his knees beside her and doing his best to avoid looking at the torn limb that hung from her shoulder by a few threads of skin.

"I'm all right," she gasped but, of course, she was not. She gripped Draco's arm. "The twins," she hissed, her eyes still blazing a hellish red. "Save my babies!"

Severus appeared at her side and then swung her up into his arms; her fingers bit into his chest when the movement sent pain screaming through her broken wing and broken arm. "Sarai has them," he cried. "Now let's go!"

Together, they all sprinted for the safety of the manor.

**Author's note:** I may lose readers after this chapter but I felt that it was important to show you just how dangerous an uncontrolled werewolf can be. As I've shown you, Remus could have easily killed any one of them and, even for experienced immortals like Phil and Julie, he posed a serious threat to them all. How could Severus at 16 have had a hope of defending himself against a full grown werewolf? How could Harry, Ron and Hermione at 13 years old?

**Next:** Both Sirius and Remus learn the serious ramifications of their actions.


	7. Repercussions

Chapter 7: Repurcussions

Harry could smell the blood. He could taste it on the back of his tongue. It rolled down the length of his aunt's arm, her fingers coated in it, the liquid sheening against the pure white of her skin. Ruby droplets dripped from the tear in her shoulder where her wing should have been and now only hung by a few threads of skin. He could hear it, the steady _drip, drip, drip_ of the bloody droplets smattering quietly against the ceramic tiles of the floor.

_It's so vibrant,_ he thought, meaning the bright red shade of the blood. Blood did not sicken him in the way that it made other people squeamish but the spreading pool of it definitely reminded him of his aunt dying on their sofa less than a month ago. His stomach tightened with worry for her. He couldn't handle the emotional turmoil of watching her nearly die a second time and he knew that his father, stepmother and brother felt the same way. He was just glad that Nesmay hadn't been awake to witness the brutal fight between Moony and the adult vampires. Out of all of them, she was closest to Julie. The last thing they needed was to worry about her on top of the twin eight-year-old fledgling vampires that cowered underneath their father's legs.

He could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up in primal warning as goose bumps rippled down his upper arms and a tingle of trepidation sent shivers up his spine. His aunt's eyes blazed a hellish red, her pupils so contracted that they resembled needle-thin slits. Her lips, stained red with Moony's blood, pulled back from her teeth to expose her fangs. Harry did not fear either Phil or Julie although he knew that his uncle could be a force of nature if the situation warranted it. He knew that a vampire's eyes shifted from their natural hue to blood red depending on the strength of their emotions. He had seen Philip overprotective. He had seen him enraged. And he had seen him terrified. He had never seen Julie's eyes glow that demonic red before and he admitted to himself that that frightened him far more than he expected.

Power surged through the manor causing the ground to tremble slightly beneath their feet. Magic sparked between his fingertips, reacting to the energy pouring into the room, and his hair seemed to float for a moment or two before lying flat. Harry watched as the air around the majestic lion that was his uncle started to ripple and bend before shimmering with gold bursts of light like miniature fireworks. The lion dissolved, shrinking underneath the power and raw magic that Philip commanded, and, within moments, the handsome vampire rose to his feet clad in black silken boxers. He locked eyes with Severus for the briefest of moments, but Harry knew that the two of them had been speaking telepathically, and then he strode toward his wife.

Philip actually stumbled, his hand shooting outward to grip the corner of the counter to help steady himself. Had any of them ever seen Phil stumble before? Harry wondered. All of them jumped at the sound of a sharp _crack_ and turned to see a jagged line running through the middle of the counter top. Phil dropped his hand but not before Harry caught a glimpse of it shaking.

"You shouldn't have done that," Julie admonished him as she reached out to steady him. "I would have been fine. I could have asked Sev or Sarai to sew my wing for me and one of them could have set my arm. You didn't need to do that," she whispered and she lifted her hand to trail her fingers once through his hair as she murmured, "Always my knight in shining armor, eh, Phil?"

"Let me see," he murmured to her, a thread of Command echoing in his deep voice, ignoring her.

"I'm fine," she informed him coolly. "You should look to the children and to yourself."

"Neither of them is critically injured and I will see to them in a moment. Now, _turn around,_" he growled.

Harry couldn't help himself. He shivered. That rasp in Phil's voice sent chills careening down the back of his spine. Fear caused his heart to speed up, sending a spike of adrenaline surging through his bloodstream. His aunt and uncle swung their heads in his direction and he saw their pupils dilate, their nostrils flaring as they drank in the scent of his terror. In that moment every instinct he possessed told him to run and run far away. His legs actually quivered with the need to move. If he ran they would follow him. Logically he knew that his uncle and aunt would never do such a thing – Philip prided himself on his honour and he didn't believe that Julie possessed an angry bone in her body. Logic is all well and good but it falls by the wayside when one finds himself confronted by two of the world's most apex predators.

He jumped when his father draped a reassuring arm across his shoulder, pulling him in close to his chest to offer him both strength and comfort.

"Dad . . ." he began unable to keep the quiver from his voice.

"I know, Harry," his father soothed, his hand a comforting weight on his back. "I feel it too."

Harry tilted his head up to stare at his father and he saw the man's pupils contracted with the same fear assailing him. Now that he knew what to look for, he could feel the older man's hand trembling slightly upon his back. Both of them breathed fast, not panting, not quite, but quick enough that their blood surged and flushed their cheeks. His father's free hand hovered only inches away from his wand but they both knew that magic proved ineffective against the undead; it wouldn't even slow them down.

Pointedly ignoring them, or appearing to, Phil gripped his mate's shoulders and gently spun her around in order for him to assess the damage done to her wing. She hissed at his touch. Harry's stomach dropped. It had sounded like an actual feline's hiss. He saw Phil's lip curl to reveal the barest hint of fangs at the sides of his mouth. This wasn't about establishing dominance between the two vampires but, rather, him reacting to her pain, which he could feel thanks to the mate bond they shared. His uncle rarely talked about it but it was something Harry knew that he would never experience with Katie and, to be quite honest, he was glad of that fact. No one should stand completely naked before someone else.

"Mm." Phil clicked his tongue in annoyance. Harry recognized it because his father had picked up the trait from him over the years. "You need blood in order to regenerate the healing process," he murmured, "and Blood Replenishing Potions have no effect on us whatsoever."

"I've had a broken wing and a broken arm before," Julie said matter-of-factly. "I'll live."

Harry watched his uncle's violet eyes narrow dangerously, his pupils contracting to become thin slits.

"I know," he growled. "Now," he commanded, "hold still."

Harry clenched his jaw at the sudden shift of power that filled the room; it didn't hurt, per say, but he could definitely feel it as if it were a real thing. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. He swore that his uncle's power rivaled that of Queen Titania. It didn't quite feel the same as her magic for the Fae were common tricksters and used illusion rather than taking the time to actually create something. Her magic reminded him of summer storms, violent and electric and passionate, only to be blown away by the shifting of winds and reveal a starved land transformed into a lush, green paradise; her magic tasted of growing things. Philip's magic reminded him of the sea, uncontrollable, untameable, ever changing and, ultimately, unconquerable; his magic, unsurprisingly, tasted of blood.

He couldn't help the fact that his jaw fell open when he saw the loose skin begin to knit together under the man's fingertips. Phil's magic did not resemble Titania's or theirs in any way, shape or form; it wasn't that he was more powerful or magical than the Summer Queen – it was simply that his magic was different.

"This is blood magic, isn't it, Uncle Phil?" Harry asked, the words slipping his tongue before the thought fully finished forming in his mind.

"In its purest form, Harry," the man agreed distractedly.

"But what about the night that Voldemort . . .?"

"It was a form of blood magic," he agreed. Gently pushing Julie's shoulder, he turned her around and lifted her broken arm tenderly, carefully resetting the bone in place. "What you have to understand, Harry, is that blood magic is one of the strongest forms of magic in the world simply because blood is the currency of life. What Voldemort tried to do went against the laws of nature _and_ magic. You cannot cheat death; it is impossible."

"But you're immortal, Uncle Phil," Harry pointed out.

"That does not mean that I didn't die in order to become so, Harry," Phil murmured. "I gave up my humanity to become a vampire. I may look human, Harry, but make no mistake that I am most definitely _not_ human."

And, as if to emphasize his point, he lifted Julie's blood-soaked fingers to his lips and ran his tongue from the base of her wrist to the very tip of her thumb.

Harry glanced away. Although he didn't mind displays of affection – Merlin knew he saw enough from his mother and father and was well aware that he did the same with Katie – watching his uncle lick his aunt's wrist like that bothered him; it seemed to him far more intimate than a passionate kiss between lovers. To be fair, though, Phil and Julie rarely touched each other with vapid displays of affection in public or around them. Apart from watching Siren and Setus feed from their father a month ago he could only remember a handful of occasions where it really hit home that his aunt and uncle weren't human.

Dawn's early morning light slowly began to creep along the horizon, chasing away the shadows of the night and replacing the terror of darkness with the warmth of sunlight. The walls lightened to a pale cream, the pale morning rays bringing out the red grain in the kitchen's mahogany cabinetry.

Fred and George's prank should have lasted a full three days – they knew what they were doing when it came to such things – but Phil's power broke the spell. The two little boys shivered under the table where they had been cowering while their father tended to their mother and now their blood appeared vibrant and red against their white-as-snow skin. Harry looked quickly away. Moony's sharp claws had sliced through the delicate skin on Setus' hips like a knife through butter. Four deep claw marks slashed across his naked buttocks and blood dripped from each wound, slithering down the backs of his legs and coating his feet. The worst of it was the half-moon bite that wrapped around the back of his ribs and the sides of his waist. Moony's fangs had pierced easily through the lion cub's pelt and the injury looked far more severe up close. Setus bit his lip, his tiny fangs stark against his red lips. Beside him his brother seemed to fare a little better than he did. Although he was not covered in blood from head to toe like his mother and brother, Siren had managed to bang his head at one point and his vision swam somewhat threateningly. The back of his neck hurt from where his father's powerful jaws had gripped his scruff to protect him from slamming into the ground when Moony had thrown him into the air.

When Julie knelt under the table to find her subdued twins, Setus immediately crawled into her arms, sobbing from the pain and utterly embarrassed that his aunt and uncle had seen him so defenseless. Siren hesitated but, at a gentle mental prompting from his mother, he, too, crawled out from under the table and then pressed himself against her. Then, he, too, started to cry.

Harry pressed his lips together as the first vestiges of anger started to grow within him. He knew that his uncle did not trust easily or well when it came to people outside of his family. Philip did not like Sirius _or_ Remus but because he knew how important they were to Harry, he acted civil toward them. Sirius had done the complete opposite of being civil and Remus . . . well, Remus was as polite as could be expected of him. But that did _not_ excuse the fact that he had just openly attacked the elder Snapes and their children without provocation.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise when Julie scooped Setus up into her arms, holding him close to her breast, and then bounded up the stairs for their master bedroom.

"Severus," Phil murmured. "In the pantry, on the top shelf, you'll find several unlabeled potion vials. Bring me two of them, would you, please?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled Siren against his chest and slowly climbed up the stairs after his beloved wife.

Harry sank into one of the kitchen chairs gratefully, his knees shaking from the surge of adrenaline and the after effects of his uncle's magic. His hands trembled in his lap. He clenched them in to fists but his fingers tingled and he relaxed his grip. He heard Sarai as she bustled about, preparing a pot of coffee for them all (although she could use magic like the rest of them, she preferred to actually make the pot herself in a situation such as this because it gave her time to think and, occasionally, to cool off). Soon, the tantalizing scent of coffee permeated the air and Harry's mouth watered. (He enjoyed his tea as much as the next person but he found that coffee was rapidly beginning to take its place. That spike of adrenaline really helped keep him awake especially in situations like this.)

He glanced up when Draco sat down beside him nursing a cup of tea in one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. He did not meet Harry's eyes but continued to stare out the window as he watched the sun climb slowly higher into the sky. The pale pink and gold of early dawn faded away to brilliant azure blue. Songbirds chirped a merry tune. Droplets of dew beaded on each blade of grass until the grass sparkled and twinkled like an emerald sea. Mist hung low between the trees, spreading out across the fields and meadows until the world seemed silenced forever.

"Do you think they'll be okay?"

Draco's quiet inquiry shocked Harry from his thoughts.

"I hope so," he murmured. "If anyone knows how to help them, it's Dad. Uncle Phil said it himself that he's one of the best Potion Masters he's seen in a long time."

"But there's no cure for lycanthropy, Harry," his brother pointed out. "What if . . . I don't know, what if Setus and Aunt Julie are werewolves now instead of vampires?"

"Is that even possible?"

"I don't know," Draco shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"Hey, Mum?"

Sarai turned around. "Yes, Harry?"

"Do you know if Setus and Aunt Julie will become werewolves now because Remus bit them or will they stay vampires or will they become some sort of hybrid . . .?"

"That's a good question but I honestly have no idea, Harry," she admitted. "That's something you'd have to ask your aunt or uncle."

"It was worth a shot," he said, shrugging when Draco looked at him shrewdly.

Everyone turned at the sound of the back door opening and watched as Remus entered the manor supported by Sirius. Harry winced in sympathy for the man but the cold expressions on his mother's and brother's faces told him that he was the only one. The middle-aged werewolf appeared haggard as he stood leaning heavily against Sirius.

"Are you all right?" he couldn't help but ask the Defense professor.

"I've had better days, Harry," Remus said with a tired smile. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to my rooms to wash up and perhaps take a nap."

Without another word Sirius helped Remus up the stairs and to his room.

Draco glared at him.

"What?" Harry asked.

"How can you even feel sympathy for him, Harry?" Draco demanded. "He almost killed Aunt Julie and Siren and Setus and attacked Uncle Phil!"

"Draco . . ." He sighed. "We don't know what happened out there last night. It could have been anything. I'm sure Remus was only defending himself."

"So you think Uncle Phil attacked him?"

"No! I mean, I don't know, Dragon." Harry's shoulders slumped forward. "Remus would never attack anyone and we know that he takes the Wolfsbane Potion because Dad brews it for him every month."

_There's no way Remus would attack Uncle Phil like that,_ he thought. _The Wolfsbane would prevent him from ever losing control._

"Harry?"

He jumped slightly when his father settled a hand on his shoulder.

"Dad!" he cried. "How are the twins and Aunt Julie?"

His father sighed and rubbed a hand over his face before taking a seat at the end of the table. "It doesn't look good," he said at last. "Julie and Setus are in the worst condition despite Philip healing her. I think _he_'s pretty exhausted, too, by the sounds of it."

Harry swallowed. Both his aunt and younger cousin had been bitten by Moony.

"Will they be okay?" he asked.

"I don't know," his father answered slowly. "Phil's with them now but he refuses to tell me what's going on or if there's anything more I can do to help."

"But he came to us for help with Aunt Julie!"

His father sighed again before he turned his head to peer out the window in much the same way that Draco had done so earlier. "I'm beginning to wonder . . ."

"Dad?" Harry prompted.

"It's nothing, son," Severus waved a dismissive hand.

Harry frowned but he knew better than to try and convince his father to share his thoughts especially when he wasn't ready to do so.

"Can we go and see them?" Draco spoke up then. "Aunt Jewels and the twins, I mean."

"You can try, Dragon, but I highly advise against doing so. Phil has barred the door to his bedroom and he's not in the best of moods at the moment."

"Can't say I blame him," Draco agreed. "First they're attacked by vampire hunters which nearly kills Aunt Jewels, Sirius is less than polite to both of them – sorry, Harry, but it's true and you know it is – and then they're attacked by Remus."

"We don't know that it was Remus's fault," Harry felt the need to point out.

His brother glared at him and even his father offered him a sharp look.

"Look," he said, uncomfortable now, "we don't know whose fault it is, okay? I don't think it's fair to place blame until we know all the facts."

"Harry . . ."

"Dad, don't, just . . . please, don't," Harry implored him. "I know you aren't close with Sirius _or_ Remus but to blame him for every incident just because he's a werewolf would be equivalent to blaming Uncle Phil just because he's a vampire."

"You're logic is unsound," his father told him. "You're right about the fact that I will never be close with Sirius or Remus but to not lay blame on either of them is a silly notion." He held up a hand to forestall his protest. "We saw Remus attacking Julie. I don't know about you, but I _saw_ the blood dripping from the werewolf's fangs and he only clamped on tighter to her arm when he saw us arrive. That did not look like self defense to me, Harry."

He bit his lip worriedly.

"I just . . ." he sighed. "I just can't believe that Remus would attack anyone while using the Wolfsbane."

"Remus attacked someone while under the Wolfsbane?"

Harry, Draco and their father turned to see Hermione and Katie standing in the entranceway to the kitchen, both of them wearing a light robe over their pajamas, their hair tangled and spilling down their backs and shoulders.

"Who was it?" Katie asked as she moved over to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee.

Harry refused to meet her beautiful blue eyes, his hands clenching in his lap.

"Not – not Phil and Julie?" Hermione gasped.

"It wasn't just Uncle Phil and Aunt Jewels, Mione," Draco said.

"Siren and Setus, _too?_"

Fingers clenching around his undrunk tea cup, he nodded.

"Oh, Draco." She draped her arms over his chest and kissed his cheek. "Are they okay?"

"We don't know. Dad says that Uncle Phil won't let anyone in to see them."

Katie took the seat on the opposite side of the table and reached out her hand for Harry's which he gratefully accepted. Her fingers were warm and she squeezed his reassuringly.

"If anyone knows how to handle this kind of situation, it's your uncle Phil, right?" she told them passionately. "You told me once that he's a thousand years old. Surely that means that he's seen something like this before?"

"That's right," Hermione agreed, sharing a compassionate glance with Katie over Draco's head. "We just have to stay positive. Phil will come to us when he's ready."

"Hermione's right," Sarai said. "Come on, buck up, everyone. Why don't we clean this place up before anyone else wakes up and that way Julie doesn't have to worry about mopping her floors, hmm?"

Harry rose to his feet. "That's a great idea, Mum."

She beamed at him but neither his smile nor hers completely reached their eyes. Worry left them silent.

_Five hours later:_

The kitchen was fit to burst with so many people crammed around both the table and the island and sitting on whatever other surface was available. Everyone wanted to know what had happened the night before but Harry, Draco, their father and their mother could only explain the tale-end of the situation because none of them had been there from the start; Sirius remained unnaturally silent. No amount of badgering or pestering could force him to open up. Nesmay became understandably upset when she found out what had happened to her aunt, uncle and cousins. Ron and Ginny also noticed that Remus was nowhere to be seen; this wasn't unusual, per say, but they were concerned nonetheless. No one wanted to believe that Remus had attacked the vampires especially while using the Wolfsbane Potion.

"Sirius, you're the only one who saw the whole thing," Petunia pointed out. "Please tell us what happened."

Sirius met his wife's eyes for a brief moment and then dropped his gaze, refusing to speak.

"Maybe we should ask Phil what happened," Dudley suggested.

"That would be a bad idea, Dud," Harry murmured.

"Why?" his cousin asked.

"Because Uncle Phil has locked himself inside his bedroom good and tight, that's why," he growled. "I may not be afraid of him, Dudley, but even I know better than to tease a sleeping lion."

"Is that what he's doing?" Ginny asked. "Sleeping?"

"I really have no clue, Gin. You're guess is as good as mine."

"_Do_ vampires sleep?" Dudley wanted to know.

"We do."

Harry spun around to face his uncle. The man leaned casually against one of the columns that formed the arched entryway into the kitchen, his arms folded across his chest and his leg crossed at the ankle. Despite the man's relaxed body language Harry could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up in primal warning; his uncle was most definitely _not_ relaxed. It was a façade. His eyes were their normal violet hue but Harry was sure that he could detect sorrow and agony in the depths of his eyes. He wore his usual black breeches and a white tunic that did nothing to hide the red stains on the cuffs of his sleeves. His long hair brushed his shoulders but Harry could see fresh puncture wounds along the sides of his neck. Exhaustion etched his youthful face.

"Severus, Harry, Ron and Hermione, I would like to speak with you privately, please, if you do not mind," Phil requested of them. "Sirius, you will, please, wake Remus and then the two of you shall meet me at my office."

"What about us, Uncle Phil?" Draco asked, indicating himself, his mother and Katie.

"The three of you may join us if you wish," he informed them all quietly. When Nesmay opened her mouth to protest, he said quietly, "This is not a discussion I wish you to witness, Nesmay. I know you think that you are old enough, mature enough, to handle something like this but, trust me when I say, that that is not the case. Remus has broken the law and must be punished accordingly. That is not something for you to see, young lady."

_Punished accordingly?_ Harry thought caustically. For the briefest of moments an image of a gray wolf, his jaws clamped around his aunt's forearm, flashed before his eyes. He couldn't help but flinch. He understood Phil's reasoning but that did not stop him from feeling sympathetic for Remus. _Surely he doesn't plan on killing Remus, right? Right?_

Phil turned away and led them up the stairs, away from his master bedroom and toward his office at the end of this wing. He opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter. As he extended his arms, Harry noticed a set of puncture wounds on each wrist, the distance between each wound too small to belong to his aunt.

"Uncle Phil?" He hesitated when the man turned those violet eyes toward him. "Will Aunt Julie and the twins be all right?"

"Yes, Harry, all three of them should be fine."

He released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He offered the man a smile but Philip did not return the gesture; instead his expression remained stark and grim.

"Will _you_ be all right, Uncle Phil?"

"Yes," the man said again. "I'll be fine, Harry."

Frowning slightly to himself, Harry brushed past his uncle and entered the man's office, his eyes widening when he finally took the time to look around. Just like the art studio that belonged completely to Julie with her feminine touches everywhere this room belonged completely to Philip. His desk lay against the far wall directly underneath a window that overlooked the stables below; a computer monitor rested on the top with a drawer that slid out to reveal the keyboard and the desktop was neatly concealed in the space underneath the desk. The red light on the phone flashed gently indicating a missed call or an unheard message. Two bookshelves stood on either side of the desk filled from floor-to-ceiling with very rare, very expensive and very hard-to-find books kept in pristine condition behind a glass door. Harry tried to read the spines of several tomes but he didn't recognize the language; one seemed to have the elegant symbols of the Arabic language while another shifted with gold hieroglyphics that had absolutely nothing to do with ancient Egypt.

On the opposite wall, also protected by glass, hung two of the most beautiful swords that Harry had ever seen. The broadsword was over 2 and a half feet long, almost 3 feet actually, the metal of the blade shining an almost iridescent purple when the sun's light struck it just right. The hilt was two-handed and gilded in pure silver that also flashed with hints of the colour purple that shimmered through the length of the blade. The pommel was in the shape of a serpent that coiled up the length of the hilt until it met the guard; two amethysts glittered where its eyes should be. The guard tapered upward to the left and right on either side of the blade in the form of a rook's wings. This weapon was meant for a king.

The second sword was far more delicate but no less lethal than the broadsword. It resembled the broadsword but the width of its blade was thinner than the one placed above it. The blade itself was not straight but tapered slightly inward at the middle before curving out again. There was an intricate design, very much like vines, climbing up the side of the blade but, upon closer inspection, Harry realized that that it was hundreds of tiny symbols that created the pattern. The hilt was a hand and a half in length and also gilded in silver but no hint of another colour flashed through the metal. The pommel was a large jewel in the shape of the star and the crystal was a pale rose – a pink tourmaline. The guard curled up and around the blade in the shape of two unicorns, their horns touching at the tips. It was beautiful and deadly and feminine all at the same time and Harry wondered who it could have belonged to for his uncle to place it in his office. In all the years he had known her, Harry had never seen his aunt anywhere near a sword or ever heard her speak of them so he figured that it couldn't be hers.

Right beneath the two swords, encased in glass, two glass slippers rested upon a cushion of blue velvet.

_Why, in Merlin's name, does he keep a pair of high-heels in a glass case in his office?_ Harry wondered. _I'd have thought this would be more up Aunt Julie's alley than Uncle Phil's . . ._

The crystal glowed, absorbing the royal blue colour of the velvet cushion it rested upon until the depth of the glass shone the shade of freshly cut sapphires. Ribbons of lighter colours, pale pinks, soft lilacs and yellow golds, swirled up and down the length of the heel of the shoe. A butterfly, crafted from spun gold and blown glass, rested upon the vamp of the shoe and this delicate little jewel added a touch of elegance to them.

While most definitely not a weapon like the two swords above them Harry could not deny the beauty of the shoes. Something about a fairy tale princess flitted through his brain. Harry remembered his father telling him long ago that all legends contained a seed of truth.

Harry turned at the sound of his uncle gently closing the door to his office behind him. He gestured for him to take a seat beside his father and brother on the sofa before he pulled out the chair to his desk and sat down, his legs slightly spread and his arms across his chest. It was aggressive body language and meant to be intimidating – but what really set Harry's stomach roiling with fear was the way his uncle's lip curled at the side of his mouth to reveal just a hint of fang.

"Remus Lupin," Philip purred, his voice deep and musical, his gaze intense, "you have attacked my mate and children without provocation. I want to know why."

Harry glanced at the werewolf. Remus sat uncomfortably still between Sirius and Sarai but he could see the sweat beading on the older man's temples. He could tell he was trying not to squirm underneath the vampire's penetrating stare.

"Hold on, Philip," Sirius said, biting back a flinch when those violet eyes swung toward him, "what happened last night wasn't Remus's fault. He's not to blame for what happened. I'm the one who let him out. It's my fault."

Harry could have hugged his godfather. _Here_ was the responsible adult he had seen on several occasions since Dudley had been bitten by the Runespoor. Sirius was actually admitting to his mistake and willing to accept whatever punishment would follow. No one wanted Philip to kill Remus but everyone in that room knew that it was a very real possibility.

"You may have let him out, Sirius," the vampire agreed, "and you must bear blame for that but it was _Remus_ who attacked my children unprovoked."

"I – I–" Remus licked his lips to moisten them. "I don't know why I attacked your children, Philip, I really don't. In fact, I . . . I barely remember what happened last night."

"Do you know why that is, _wolf?_"

Harry flinched. Always trust a Snape to make an ordinary word sound like an insult.

"It's because the wolf takes over on the full moon," Remus answered quietly. He desperately tried to avoid meeting the other man's eyes and, if he did, he could only hold his gaze for a three-second count.

"But the Wolfsbane should have worked, Moony," Sirius pointed out to him. "But . . . I don't know why it didn't work."

"I do."

Everyone turned to look at Phil. The vampire had shifted forward, his hands resting on his knees, his eyes intent as he stared at Remus.

"How long has the Wolfsbane Potion not been working for you, Remus?" he asked softly.

Remus' head jerked up. "How do you–?"

"Did you honestly think I hadn't researched the Wolfsbane when it was first discovered?" Phil asked him coldly. "Now, answer my question, please. How long has it not been working for you?"

The please was only a formality; he expected an answer.

Remus hung his head.

"Several months now," he finally admitted.

"And you neglected to mention this to anyone?" Phil demanded, red flecks appearing in his violet eyes, his voice deepening until it rumbled from his chest. "_Why?_"

"I didn't think it mattered," he answered honestly. "No one's ever asked me if it was still working properly, I didn't know it could do so, and I wasn't a hundred per cent certain until last night."

"Yes," Phil hissed, "last night, last night when you attacked my mate and my children unprovoked."

"It's never happened before," Remus tried to defend himself.

Philip rose to his feet with such speed that Harry hadn't even seen him move.

"You attacked Severus in your Sixth year. He was required to spend a week in the Hospital Wing. You're damned lucky you didn't bite him! Four years ago, not only did you neglect your Wolfsbane Potion, you attacked Harry, Ron and Hermione, three thirteen-year-old _children!_ And last night you actually managed to _bite_ not just my mate, but my _eight-year-old son!_" His eyes now blazed a fiery red. His lips pulled back to expose his fangs. "On all three occasions you have attacked members of my family, Remus. Not only have you broken wizard law, you have also broken the laws of Queen Titania's court, the vampire court _and_ your own people.

"We take our laws very seriously, Remus," Phil continued, his expression dangerous. "I've met the Lupine and Lupina of the North American werewolves. They live by a strict code of honour that the other werewolves of the world must abide by and that other magical beings such as myself and Titania admire them for. Not only have you disgraced yourself with your despicable actions over the past two decades but you have disgraced them as well. They will not forgive you lightly for that. _I_ will not forgive you lightly for that."

"If these werewolves live in North America how is it possible for them to control the werewolves that live in other parts of the world?" Sirius asked, confused.

"The Lupine and Lupina are the most dominant werewolves on the planet," Phil explained. "A werewolf pack is a hierarchy structured on dominance and submission. Only the Omega wolf stands outside of that boundary. An Omega is a werewolf with an alpha's wolf's instinct to protect but doesn't feel the need to dominate others the way they do. They are the heart of a werewolf pack. With an Omega, both a dominant and submissive wolf can relax because no one is worrying about who protects and who needs to be protected. The Lupina is an Omega. Julie shares many similar traits with an Omega wolf, just to give you an idea, but she is most definitely _not_ an Omega.

"A submissive werewolf is content to be protected," he continued. "Being submissive does not mean that the werewolf is weak or incapable of behaving like a higher-ranking dominant wolf. A submissive wolf does not feel the need to fight, at all. They have similar calming effects that the Omega does but more so simply because the more dominant wolves know that they _won't_ fight. I was once told that if you torture a submissive wolf, you're left with the human but if you torture a dominant wolf, you're left with the wolf."

"Is it true?" Remus asked.

"What?" Phil snapped. "You expect me to torture you to find out the answer?"

Remus said nothing.

"Perhaps I should then that would teach you not to insult me to my face."

"That's all well and good," Sirius interrupted, "but what does any of this have to do with the Wolfsbane Potion not working?"

Phil glared at him.

"There are certain medications that, after a prolonged amount of time, no longer have any effect on one's body. The Wolfsbane Potion falls into this category." He eyed Remus. "Do you know why the Wolfsbane Potion was invented? No? It was intended to be used as an aide to help young, adolescent or newly turned wolves to gain control of their instincts. It was not meant to be used as a dependent, the way that you are currently using it, Remus."

Severus frowned. "I was not aware of this development, Phil. In none of my potion journals or in any of the literature I have seen published here is that fact about the Wolfsbane mentioned. Why not?"

"Perhaps because most of the lore and the facts about werewolves have been suppressed by your Ministry. It is a well known fact that any type of being-were, undead, even fae-is regarded as inferior according to your Ministry and what literature they allow to be published is incomplete, incorrect, and in many cases biased to the point of being unreliable. I know that's the case with my kind and Sarai knows it's the case with the fae. I have no doubt it is also the case with werewolves. Your Ministry is content to let wizards believe that all were and all vampires are monsters, only fit to be killed. It is why we are treated the way that we are."

Severus nodded. "You're right." He glared at Remus. "Damn you, you should have told someone the potion was weakening! Sirius especially. Or didn't you think you might have been dangerous?"

Remus flinched, for the Potion Master's glare was nearly as bad as the vampire's. "I . . .wasn't around anyone the last few times I Changed in my office . . . and all I did was pace about and think about hunting . . .at least I think I did . . .when I woke up I was still there and not a monster prowling."

"Being a werewolf does not make you a monster," Phil said calmly. "If you enjoy killing before you become a werewolf, you're still the monster you always were. You just have some extra features like fangs and claws. Stop blaming the person who bit you and start accepting responsibility for your actions, Remus. There is no one to blame for what happened last night except you. If you had taken the time to learn control you never would have hurt anyone and we would not be having this discussion now."

"You can't control a werewolf," Sirius snapped. "Everyone knows that. Everyone knows that he'd kill his own best friend on the night of the full moon."

"That's funny coming from you, Sirius," Phil murmured, "considering the fact that _you_ let him out."

Sirius swallowed. "I already said I'd take the blame for that."

"This is not about blame," Phil said sharply. "This is about Remus taking responsibility for his actions and learning how to control himself." He glared at him. "The wolf is not a separate entity like you think it is. You've constructed a wall around your instincts and those walls crumble every time the full moon climbs into the sky. It's why you have zero control and no memory of what happens during that time.

"You have attacked the people I love. You have hurt Severus physically and mentally to the point that just the mere mention of a werewolf makes his heart speed up. You have hurt my sons. You even bit Setus. That was no love bite, Remus. You intended to kill him. You intended to kill him and Siren and you may have even succeeded if Julie hadn't interfered. Biting my son is not just inexcusable; it's unforgivable. To add insult to injury, you bit my already-weakened mate not once but twice!

"Do you know," he continued softly, "I can remember hearing her scream like that before. I killed the rat bastard that hurt her. I ripped his heart out from his chest and drank the blood while it still beat in the palm of my hand. A lone wolf attacked her once before despite the fact that I was riding only a short distance ahead of her. He was mad and thought that she would be easy prey. I killed him, too.

"Are you beginning to understand, now, little wolf?" Phil murmured, watching the blood drain away from Remus' face. "Only someone insane, say a werewolf that lacks control or is crazed with moon lust, would dare attack my mate. My scent covers her body. My blood flows in her veins. My mark is clearly visible upon her throat. No sane werewolf would have dared gone near her, no matter the provocation."

"Remus isn't insane!" Sirius shouted, surging to his feet, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Look, what happened last night was terrible, I agree, and, yes, people were hurt, but no one died, so what does it matter? Let it —uck!"

Sirius now dangled a foot in the air for Phil had wrapped a hand around his collar and hefted him up over his head.

"You need to learn to keep that mouth of yours shut, Sirius," the vampire hissed. Sirius shuddered against his hold. Phil's breath was icy cold against his neck and those fangs looked pretty damned lethal this close up. "No one may have died but that does not excuse the fact that Remus hurt people that I love."

"And he's suffering for it!" Sirius cried, waving his arms frantically. "Can't you see the guilt eating at him?"

Philip sneered as he set the other man down, his handsome features appearing more rugged than ever. "I smell guilt," he agreed, "but not the soul-crushing kind of guilt that should be eating away at him."

Philip's eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to him.

"You expect to get off lightly, don't you, Remus?" He all but snarled as the realization slammed into the front of his brain. "You felt soul-crushing guilt the first time you attacked Severus but when _he_ was punished instead of you, you realized that you were safe with the Headmaster there to protect you. Do you think Dumbledore will protect you from me? Do you expect Severus or Sarai or Draco or Harry to protect you from me?"

Remus glanced at Sarai but the half-fae warrior had been quiet throughout this whole ordeal; she was not about to speak now.

"This is not Hogwarts," the vampire seethed. Everyone jumped when several thin cracks appeared in the window. "I am not Dumbledore to excuse your behaviour as childish antics. You could have _killed_ my wife and children! Do you not understand that?"

"Of course I do," Remus said quietly.

"_Do_ you?" he demanded. "Do you really understand what it's like to lose someone you love, Remus? _Have_ you ever loved a woman to the point where you would gladly die if it meant that she lived instead of you? Have you ever loved a woman to the point where you would risk everything because, not only is she the love of your life, but the mother of your children?"

"That's not fair," Sirius growled.

"It's quite difficult to find a woman who would be interested in dating a werewolf," Remus murmured.

"The answer to my question is no, then," Phil said dryly. "I pity you. A life without love is a life unworthy of living."

Remus' cheeks turned red. "I do know what love is, Phil, contrary to what you think you believe. You aren't aware of everything that goes on in my life."

"Really?" he drawled. "Would you be willing to die for your children the way that Lily died for Harry, the way that Julie would have died for Siren and Setus last night? No?" His fangs appeared stark white against his lips. "You don't know the meaning of the word. You're nothing but a coward, Remus. Admit it."

"I am not a coward!"

"If you found out your mate was pregnant, you would abandon her at the first opportunity for fear that the child she carried would have the lycanthropy disease."

"That's enough, Phil!" Sirius demanded.

"Or you'll do what, Black? You and I both know that no one in this room is a match for me when it comes to magic. Magic doesn't work against the undead. Sarai may have been the Captain of the Queen's Blades but I am older and far more experienced than she is." It wasn't arrogance; it was truth. "And you, Sirius, lack the balls to take me one-on-one."

"You think just because you're some hot-shot vampire that you can go around doing whatever you please, don't you, Phil?"

"I _could_ fire call the Ministry right now and I _could_ press charges against you and Remus for reckless child endangerment. Or have you forgotten that your own two-year-old daughter was sleeping a few doors down from your room? I thought not," the vampire added when he saw Sirius pale at the realization. "I'm sure you've noticed that I _haven't_ fire called the Ministry and that I _haven't_ decided to press charges."

"You – you haven't?"

"I haven't."

"But why? You said you weren't Dumbledore, to excuse my behaviour as childish antics."

"I am not involving the Ministry because this does not concern them. I _have_ spent most of the morning in conference with the Lupine and Lupina discussing what a suitable punishment might be. Our laws are absolute. Death is the ultimate penalty in a case such as this one. We _cannot_ afford bad publicity. North America is the only continent in which magical creatures and ordinary humans can coexist peacefully beside one another without having to hide. The laws protect _both_ of us. And no one is above the law."

"Uncle Phil, you _can't!_" Harry cried, desperately climbing to his feet. "Remus isn't a bad person. He doesn't deserve to die!"

He noticed, however, that neither Draco, nor Hermione, nor Ron for that matter, said anything.

"Doesn't he, Harry?" Phil asked him gently. "What if he had bitten you or Draco or Nesmay? What if he had bitten Toria? Most people who are bitten by a werewolf die within 24 hours. You may be part fae but you are not immune to a werewolf bite like I am or Julie and the twins, for that matter. If you didn't die from severe blood loss, shock or infection then you would become a werewolf yourself."

Harry paled. His uncle was only doing what any parent would do and looking out for the wellbeing of his children – _and_ that of his nieces and nephews. Remus was dangerous; dangerous in a way that Phil and Julie would never be because they knew how to control their blood lust. Phil had never attacked anyone without due cause and even in his Fourth year when he'd punished Avery, Nott and MacLaggen, he hadn't seriously injured any of them. He had frightened them and forced them to experience the pain of an exploding cauldron that damaged Harry and Sev's lungs but he hadn't hurt them. He had meted out justice. And that was exactly what he was doing now.

"It's not fair," he whispered through numb lips.

"Not fair? Oh, Harry," the man crooned, his voice incredibly gentle, "you only think it's unfair because you know Remus. You would feel differently if it had been an unknown werewolf that attacked Julie and the twins, wouldn't you? You wouldn't care if that person lived or died, if he had a family or not, because he hurt people you love. You feel differently because it's Remus."

"It was an accident," Harry whispered, biting his lip between his teeth.

"Once is a mistake but, if you do it a second time, it's not a mistake anymore. How many times has Remus nearly killed one of you, Harry, because he wasn't careful enough? Then it's no longer a mistake, Harry. It's stupidity."

"So you're going to kill me, is that it," Remus said bitterly. "You're my judge, jury and executioner, eh, Philip?"

"I have had _enough_ of your attitude, Remus."

The werewolf jerked in surprise. "What attitude? What are you talking about? I have been nothing but polite to you, Philip."

"Polite, my arse," the vampire sneered. "You sit here, in my office, content to allow Sirius and Harry to defend you when you should be defending your own worthless hide. Is that what happened in your Sixth year? James and Sirius defended you while you sat back, content to watch, knowing that the Headmaster would never expel a friend of James Potter? That's clever, I must admit. I never would have expected such a feat from you."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he whispered.

"It would appear I've hit a nerve."

"What, Philip?" Remus finally snapped. "What more do you want me to say? You've decided to kill me whether I agree with you or not so what's the point in arguing any further?"

"How about 'I'm sorry'?"

Remus blinked at him. "What?"

"An apology goes a long way, _wolf_," Phil sneered contemptuously. "You never apologized to Severus for all those years you stood by and allowed James and Sirius to torment him. You never apologized for nearly killing him, either. You never apologized to Arthur and Molly Weasley for endangering Ron. You never apologized to Dan and Emma Granger for nearly killing Hermione. You never apologized to Severus for nearly killing Harry. You have yet to apologize to me for nearly murdering my wife and sons."

Harry stared at his uncle. Philip was a man of great honour and integrity, a true knight of the realm, whose sole purpose was to defend the weak and innocent from cowardly bullies and thieves. He lived by that oath. And in that moment Harry realized that Philip truly saw Remus as a coward. Apologizing meant admitting to one's mistakes and promising to try hard in order to avoid repeating them. Remus had repeated the same mistake not once but three times and had never shown any remorse over the fact that he could – _did!_ – seriously injure someone.

"Would you accept my apologies, Phil?"

He would, Harry knew that he would, but he also knew that apologizing just for the sake of apologizing and not actually meaning the words would deeply offend the noble vampire.

"I would."

"I am deeply sorry for the harm I caused your mate and children, Philip," Remus said somberly. Hesitantly, he held out his hand.

_Does he mean it?_ Harry wondered. _Does he **really** mean it?_

Philip watched Remus closely for several long seconds.

"Apology accepted." Phil clasped the other man's hand and they shook once. "But, Remus, a simple apology does not get you off the hook. I can't let this go. Nor can the Lupine or Lupina. Your lack of control makes you dangerous. Surely, you can understand that?"

He swallowed. "I do."

Harry's eyes widened. _No . . . _

"When we travel to the United States, you shall face the Lupine and Lupina and a jury of lesser alpha wolves to judge your actions and to determine a suitable punishment."

_What?_

"You mean . . .?"

Harry held his breath, hardly daring to hope.

"By the laws of your people, Remus, I have the right to kill you," Phil said quietly. "A werewolf that lacks sufficient control is dangerous and you are neither an adolescent nor a newly turned wolf. You should have learnt control years ago. Dumbledore should have provided you with contact information to werewolves throughout parts of Europe or North America. Meditating for an hour in the morning and an hour at night would have helped you immensely. Finding control does not only apply to werewolves – I learned control just as Julie learned control just as Severus and Sarai learned control. We are all different but you and me, Remus? We're predators. We can't afford a lack of control or the people we love could end up hurt or much worse.

"Therefore, you shall stand trial before your peers and be judged for your actions where, hopefully, a suitable punishment will be determined."

"Then, that means . . ."

"I can still be killed," Remus answered bitterly.

"Only the Lupine and Lupina have the final say when it comes to your judgement, Remus," Phil said, "but, if it helps, I don't think they are planning on killing you."

"What do you mean?"

"These circumstances are rather unique, wouldn't you agree? They'll take that into consideration as well as the fact that I have vouched for you."

_A true knight, indeed,_ Harry thought.

"But you should know this, now, Remus, for your sake and for mine. There will be no more chances after this. If I find out that you have attacked anyone unprovoked, control or not, I will finish what I started and I will kill you myself. Do you understand?"

It was not an idle threat and everyone knew it; Remus swallowed audibly.

"I understand."

"Good." Phil's gaze shifted. "Now, as for you, Sirius . . ."

The canine animagus shrank back in his seat.

"I know you dislike me," the vampire murmured. "Hell, I'm not too fond of you myself but that does not excuse the fact that you did nothing when Remus attacked my children. You are his alpha. You could have easily commanded him to stop well before he harmed Siren and Setus. Why didn't you?"

"I tried," Sirius said earnestly which caused Phil to frown. "But he wouldn't listen to me."

"That is because you are nowhere near dominant enough to command even the most submissive of werewolves," he explained. "But _I_ am."

"What are you going to do, Uncle Phil?"

"After we are finished here, I am going to teach Remus some self-control." He eyed the werewolf. "This will not be easy. Do not expect it to be. You have spent 30 some years running from what you are. I am going to help you lower the walls you keep around your instincts. Hopefully, this will help. I don't have time to teach you everything before we travel to the States for the Quidditch World Cup and your trial, but it will be a start.

"Oh and Sirius? You're going to repair the door to Remus's bedroom that you destroyed last night when you let him out. And if you trail mud in the carpet in your canine form again, I'll make you clean my Potions Lab with a toothbrush."

**Author's note:** In case you are wondering, Remus _does_ abandon Tonks in The Deathly Hallows when he finds out she's pregnant because he's afraid the baby might have the Lycanthrope disease. He also never apologized to Severus in either the books or The Heir to Prince Manor or Return to Prince Manor.

Love it? Hate it? Review and let me know (or should I just give up on the damn thing?).

**Next:** Harry and Dudley explore Snape Manor and disobey Phil's number 1 rule . . .


	8. The Locked Door

**Author's note:** There are mature themes in this chapter.

**Disclaimer:** _Brahms' Lullaby_ performed by Jewel does not belong to me.

Chapter 8: The Locked Door Part I

_Late evening_

Setus was afraid.

He didn't like being afraid.

He sat upon his bed with his back against the headboard, his knees pulled up close to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, and his face pressed into his legs to hide the tears that rolled down his cheeks. He bit his lip in a foolish attempt to stifle the sobs he could feel building in the center of his chest. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. His nose felt stuffy and he wiped it across his sleeve. He licked his lips, tasting the salty tang of his tears on his tongue. His tiny fangs pricked his bottom lip and blood dribbled back into his mouth.

_Blood. There's so much blood._ His mind flashed to the memory of his Mama pinned underneath the werewolf with her arm clamped between its powerful jaws. He could hear the rushing sound of her blood as it pooled between the monster's teeth and slithered down the length of her forearm to drip from the point of her elbow. The wolf's eyes had glowed a hot, hungry yellow.

Just as quickly the memory of his mother changed to the moment before the werewolf caught _him_ between its jaws. Setus trembled. Once again he could feel the monster's teeth puncturing the soft flesh of his belly and chest. Once again he could feel its hot breath on the back of his neck. Once again he could feel the vibration of its growl through his body as the beast slavered and drooled.

_I want Mama,_ he thought desperately. _I want Mama!_

He wanted her to tell him that he wasn't being a baby for being afraid of the werewolf. He wanted her to tell him that it was okay to be afraid because he wasn't all grown up yet like Harry and Draco were. He wanted her to sing him a lullaby the way she used to do when he was afraid. He wanted her to stay with him until he fell asleep. He didn't want to be alone.

He flinched violently when the door opened quietly and she walked in. He lifted his head to stare silently at her for a moment before he lowered his gaze to glare angrily at his knees.

"Oh, Setus."

His Mama wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close against her breast. She readjusted him until he sat on her lap, his legs dangling over her knees like she had when he was smaller, and she cuddled with him. She didn't say anything because she didn't need to – not when the bond that she shared with him and his twin allowed him to feel her love surrounding him like a warm blanket.

He buried his face against her chest. She lifted a hand and began stroking his hair tenderly, her fingers running through his hair slowly and methodically.

And then she spoke the magic words. "It's okay to be afraid."

The dam burst and he started to cry in earnest. He wrapped his arms around his Mama's neck. Great, wrenching sobs escaped his chest.

Through it all she rocked him back and forth lightly. She hummed a familiar lullaby. The melody was sweet and gentle. His Mama alternated her lullabies depending on her mood. She always sang softly so that her voice never took away from the musical beauty of the song.

"I'm s-s-sorry M-mama!" he whispered against the lump in his throat.

She stopped humming, and the melody echoed in the back of his mind, but she never released her hold upon him.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetling," she crooned. "What happened to you and Siren last night was _not_ your fault," she emphasized gently. "It is Remus Lupin who is at fault. _He_ is the one who attacked you. _He_ is the one that bit you. _He_ is the one to blame. Not you. You are a victim. You did nothing wrong."

Setus only cried harder. "You were hurt because of me. The werewolf bit you, too, Mama. It's my fault. It's a-all m-my fault!"

His Mama pulled away and he sobbed at the loss of physical contact but she merely lowered her hand to cup his chin and gently force him to look into her eyes. Her mind wrapped his as intimately as her arms holding him.

"You listen to me, young man," she murmured. "What happened to me _is not_ your fault. The werewolf wanted to kill you but couldn't get at you because of me. You are _my son_, Setus Septimus Snape, and I will do anything to protect you and your brother. If that means facing down an uncontrollable werewolf, then so be it. If that means being staked with a poisoned crossbow bolt, so be it." She dropped her hand and wrapped both arms around him, her hold tightening. "You and your brother are the most precious gifts your father has ever given me. I will do anything and everything to keep you safe.

"I love you so very much," she whispered and Setus blinked in wide-eyed surprise at the sound of his Mama's voice hitching on a sob.

She made a soft sound and he tilted his head up when he felt a cold droplet roll down the side of his temple. His Mama wept silently, blood tears leaving scarlet trails down her cheeks. He moved his hands to touch the bloody streaks. His chin wobbled. His vision blurred and more tears streamed down his face.

"Why are you crying, Mama?" he asked her softly.

"Because you are hurt and afraid," she answered him. "And you shouldn't have been hurt. And you shouldn't be afraid. I have failed you, Setus. I'm so very sorry, little one. Can you ever forgive me?"

Setus stared at his Mama. She stared right back at him. He watched the tears continue to roll slowly down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his small hands and cupped her face. She pressed a kiss into each palm.

"Oh, Mama!" he cried, throwing his arms about her and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Mother and son wept together until the little boy had exhausted himself of his grief. His arms fell limply against his sides. His head remained in the crook of his mother's neck and shoulder. He did not hesitate and his tiny fangs pierced her throat. She held him, humming that beautiful lullaby so that the music echoed in the back of his mind and chased away the fear.

"Mama."

She looked up to find Siren standing nervously in the doorway. She beckoned to her other son and Setus' twin ran into her embrace.

"Do the two of you want to sleep together tonight?" she asked them.

Siren nodded vigorously.

"Setus?"

Setus glanced at his twin from across their Mama's lap. He nodded once.

Their Mama then took the time to tuck them into Setus' bed. She pulled the comforter up to their chins and pressed a tender kiss to their foreheads but she did not leave; instead, she settled herself on the edge of the mattress and started to hum.

_Lullaby, and good night, in the sky stars are bright_

_May the moon's silvery beams, bring you sweet dreams_

_Close your eyes, now and rest, may these hours be blessed_

_'Til the sky's bright with dawn, when you wake with a yawn_

_Lullaby, and good night, you are mother's delight_

_I'll protect you from harm, and you'll wake in my arms_

_Sleepyhead, close your eyes, for I'm right beside you_

_Guardian angels are near, so sleep without fear_

_Lullaby, and good night, with roses bedight_

_Lilies o'er head, lay thee down in thy bed_

_Lullaby, and good night, you are mother's delight_

_I'll protect you from harm, and you'll wake in my arms_

_Lullaby, and sleep tight, my darling sleeping_

_On sheets white as cream, with a head full of dreams_

_Sleepyhead, close your eyes, I'm right beside you_

_Lay thee down now and rest, may your slumber be blessed_

_Go to sleep, little one, think of puppies and kittens.  
Go to sleep, little one, think of butterflies in spring.  
Go to sleep, little one, think of sunny bright mornings.  
Hush, darling one, sleep through the night  
Sleep through the night  
__Sleep through the night_

Listening to the sounds of her sons' soft breathing, their dreams peaceful, Julie quietly left for her own rooms.

_Phil and Julie's bed chamber, en-suite bathroom._

Julie glanced up from her novel at the soft sound of the bathroom door opening. She feared it would be the twins having woken up again but she relaxed when Phil stepped inside and gently closed the door behind him. He did not flick on the light switch; half a dozen candles rested on either side of the enormous bathtub, their tiny flames flickering back and forth and casting the room into dusky shadow. Of course, even without the candles, she and Phil would be able to see just fine, but she enjoyed the pretty scents that filled the room and the dancing flames.

"I'm surprised you're still awake," he murmured as he began unbuttoning his shirt.

The water sloshed quietly as Julie leaned forward to place her book on the side of the tub. "The twins finally managed to fall asleep about an hour ago," she answered him, her voice just as soft as his. "Neither of them wanted to sleep alone. They're both sleeping in Setus's room."

"Nightmares?" he asked, shrugging his shirt off of his shoulders and hanging it on a hook.

She remained silent for several long moments, her eyes roaming slowly, caressingly, over her mate's back.

"Does it surprise you?"

"I'm surprised _you_'re not having nightmares, my love."

"I haven't slept yet. I may have nightmares or I may not but the boys' night terrors are bad enough that they're afraid to sleep at all."

He stilled, the muscles in his body tightening until he vibrated with tension.

"Setus?" he whispered.

She bowed her head until her dark hair curtained her face. Her hands gripped the lip of the tub. "He keeps remembering Lupin biting him. It doesn't matter how many times he drinks from me or how often I sing to him. He's afraid, Phil," she whispered as though admitting to some dark secret. "He's afraid to sleep in his own home."

Phil spun around, his eyes blazing a bloody crimson, and his lips pulled back to reveal his teeth in a feral snarl.

"I should kill that mangy wolf," he growled.

"You should have." Her voice sent a thrill up his spine. "Why didn't you?"

"I want to," he admitted. "I want to lay him before your feet and watch as you drink every last droplet of blood from his body. I want to rip his heart from his chest and watch the life leave his eyes. More than that, though, Jewels, I want him to truly regret his actions. I want him to understand that he very nearly took the ones most precious to me. I want him to understand that for every decision he has made, there is a consequence."

"And what if he feels no remorse, my love? What if he truly believes that he has done nothing wrong?"

"Then he will die."

"By your hand?"

"The Lupine and Lupina have agreed that if the ultimate decision is to kill Remus then I shall be the one allowed to do so because he has directly attacked members of my family."

"And how did Lupin handle that?"

"He doesn't have any choice. He can attend the trial where his past mistakes will come to light and he shall be judged by the Lupine and Lupina. Or he can choose not to attend in which case he will die."

Julie lifted a hand and absentmindedly massaged her shoulder where Moony had nearly torn her wing off. Phil crossed the distance between them and sat on the edge of the tub where he then, very gently, began to massage her back.

"Where did you go?" she asked, her voice beginning to slur with the fatigue that caused her head to droop.

"Hunting."

She glanced over her shoulder at him and pouted prettily.

"I should have asked you to come," he agreed, smiling faintly at her pout, "but I needed to get away from it all or I would have gone mad and killed that blasted werewolf."

"What?" she asked him imperiously. "You think that because I'm a lady I wouldn't have killed him for the simple fact that he bit our son?"

"I know you would," he agreed, his voice deepening slightly as his eyes lightened to their normal violet hue. "But I don't think the others realize that you would do such a thing."

She made a soft sound as his fingers massaged the spot right underneath her wings. She relaxed completely, her head falling back to rest against his knee, her lashes drifting closed. He smiled, bending his head to press a delicate kiss to her forehead.

"Sev is pretty angry with him," she murmured after a long moment of silence.

"He has every right to be. Remus is a teacher and therefore responsible for the safety and security of his students. He endangered everyone by neglecting to mention that the Wolfsbane was failing him."

"You love him."

Neither man had ever said the words – men rarely talked about _feelings_ with each other – but both Julie and Sarai knew the truth.

"I do."

"He loves you, you know."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked her with a slight chuckle. "I'm well aware of my feelings for Sev and his feelings for me."

"Because, while you both know the truth, sometimes you actually need to hear the words being said."

He stared down at her, his hair brushing against her cheeks, and she opened her eyes to gaze deeply into his. She loved losing herself in the depth of his eyes because they shone with unadulterated love. For her.

His hands never quit massaging her back but his fingers lightened until he trailed them teasingly up the sides of her ribs. One of his hands cupped her breast. Her lips curled upward in a shy smile. He never tired of showing her how much he loved her. His fingers were tracing an intricate pattern up her arm now.

"We shouldn't," she breathed.

His lashes lowered to half-mast and an involuntary shiver ran down her spine. She loved it when he gazed so hungrily at her.

"Why not?"

Damn it. His voice was rasping now.

"Because the twins were attacked just last night?"

"You're reaching," he growled, allowing his voice to rumble in a way that he knew would sizzle along her nerve endings. "You were attacked, too, last night. Maybe I need to know that you're all right."

She surprised him when she started to pull away from him. He reacted instinctively. As she stood up, prepared to climb out of the tub, water glistening like shards of broken crystal along her naked body, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her into his lap. His teeth caught the lobe of her ear and she went completely still when his voice rumbled inside of her head, _"Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"_

She wriggled against him and that caused him to overcompensate and he lost his balance. The two of them fell into the enormous bathtub with a splash that extinguished half of the candles. Water soaked his pants and dripped from his drenched hair. He glared down his nose when he heard his mate snicker at the sight of him but couldn't hold his harsh expression for long and, soon, both of them were laughing.

She moved to sit between her mate's legs and sighed contentedly when his arms encircled her waist.

"You know," he murmured after several long minutes of companionable silence had passed between them, "this would be a lot more comfortable without my slacks on."

Her eyes started to glow and she laughed softly as she twisted ever so slightly in his arms and quickly tugged his slacks off his hips. She tossed the soaking wet clothing on the floor.

"Better, my love?" she asked him with a slight purr to her voice.

"Those were one of my better pairs of slacks," he informed her mock-seriously.

"Buy some jeans. You think women swoon at the sight of you in slacks? Imagine what they'd do at the sight of you in tight, form-fitting jeans that hug that delicious derriere of yours?"

He smiled down at her, enjoying the sound of her laughter and how her eyes glowed with continued mirth.

"I am not going to wear jeans."

"Why not? Jeans are far more flattering than leotard."

Phil's pupils dilated when her hand began to trace a delicate pattern across his chest. Water dripped from her fingertips and trailed slowly down his ribs.

"What about leather?" she suggested.

"Do you _want_ me to wear leather?"

His fingers trailed up and down the inside of her wrist while his other hand traveled southward.

"No," she breathed, her body responding to her mate's sensual touch. "No, I don't."

His lips twitched. He lowered his head and nuzzled against her neck.

"Besides, I think if I _were_ to wear leather, Sirius would get the wrong idea and become jealous of me. Leather seems to be more up his alley, than mine, and he _does_ have that whole bad boy thing going for him."

His cool breath tickled her skin. He licked her neck, his tongue trailing over his mark upon her throat.

_"No."_

Her sweet voice flooded his mind along with the pleasure that he could feel thanks to their bond.

"No?"

She twisted around until her knees knocked against his inner thighs and she placed both of her hands flat upon his chest.

_"You bit me last time." _

He couldn't help the fact that his voice deepened with arousal. "Oh?"

She wanted to bite him.

She may not be as hesitant as she used to be four centuries ago but she did not bite him as often as he would like her to.

The thought of her sharp fangs piercing his flesh caused his eyes to glow.

_"Oh, honey,"_ he crooned. "_If that's all . . ." _

She hesitated. He cupped his hand around the back of her head and gently pulled her down toward him.

Her cool breath tickled his skin. Her tongue swiped across her mark on his neck. He groaned, sinking a few inches further in the hot water.

She opened her mouth, her teeth just barely brushing against his skin, and he could feel the sharp points of her fangs against his throat.

And then she bit down.

Blood, red and hot and thick, rushed into her mouth. It stained her lips and dribbled down one corner of her chin. Her tongue laved hungrily at the wound.

His pupils dilated. His lips parted in a feral snarl that revealed his fangs. Delicious pleasure tightened every muscle in his body.

Her mind connected with his. It was incredibly tender and incredibly intimate at the same time.

His hands gripped her hips. He gently pushed her down on top of him.

She drew back. For a moment, the two of them stared into each other's eyes and then he snarled at her before capturing her mouth in a kiss. It wasn't gentle. He could taste his blood on her tongue. He nipped, tugged and licked at her lips until every last drop of blood was gone.

He dropped kisses along her jaw and down the curve of her neck until his tongue licked over his mark. He did not hesitate. He bit down. Hard.

Her body quivered with pleasure and, a moment later, he did as well.

She sighed happily, her head falling to rest against his chest. _"Satisfied?"_

_"That you are all right?"_ His arms tightened their grip about her waist. _"Mm."_

_"Lupin isn't the first werewolf to have attacked me, my love,"_ she reminded him.

_"No,"_ he agreed.

Sensing his thought shifting to memories long left forgotten, she lifted a hand to cup his cheek. _"Here, now,"_ she chided. _"None of that."_

He stared down at her with the eyes of a predator.

She stood up, water dripping rivulets down her arms and legs, holding out her hand to him. She wiggled her fingers at him. _"Come on."_

Smiling crookedly at her, he allowed her to pull him to his feet and he stepped over the lip of the tub where he bent down to retrieve his soaking wet slacks. He watched the water drip on to the floor for a moment or two before he hung them over an empty rack in order for them to dry. They switched roles when he held out his hand to her to help her out of the bath. He grabbed a fluffy towel and took the time to dry every inch of her body. By the time he was nearly finished, her lashes were drooping heavily with exhaustion.

"I think," he murmured, "that I am going to spend the rest of the day in bed and to hell with everything else."

She blinked owlishly at him. "What?"

His lips twitched upwards in the beginnings of a smile. He lifted her into his arms.

"Come on," he whispered. "You are going to spend the rest of the day in bed if I have to get Sev to cast a Sticking Charm on you."

She huffed with amusement but she didn't resist when he settled her into bed and pulled the sheets up around their bodies.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he crooned as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

_Early the next morning:_

Severus stared out the window, his arms folded across his chest, watching the rain splatter and roll down the glass panes. Thunder rumbled close enough that the entire manor trembled with its force. Lightning flashed, illuminating the world in white-violet neon light. Despite the early morning, the sky remained bleak and gray, the clouds dark and ominous and turbulent as the wind pushed them southward.

"Did you manage to sleep at all last night?"

Sarai moved quietly to stand beside him as her hands tied a knot in the rope of her robe. He glanced at her. Her short hair, unkempt and in slight disarray because she hadn't yet brushed it, curled around the sharp angles of her cheeks and turned her skin to porcelain. He lifted a hand and his fingers snagged at her loose curls, tugging them gently until his thumb and forefinger caught the tip of one. He loved the softness of her hair. She never used product that would cause her strands to become stiff and unyielding; her curls were natural.

"I did."

She frowned up at him, her hands landing on her hips. He couldn't help the fact that his lips curled upward in a smile. He loved that delicate little frown of hers, too. Her elegant eyebrows dropped sharply which caused her eyes to narrow until the dark green of her irises sparkled like shards of broken jade. She tended to tilt her nose upward in a way that he found endearing instead of arrogant. And her beautiful, kissable, perfectly shaped, perfectly red lips would press together and tempt him in the worst ways possible.

"More than just a couple of hours?" she asked him primly.

He refused to answer her when she knew perfectly well that he had not.

"Damn it, Severus."

"What, Sarai?"

Her frown deepened into a glare.

"You are not the only one angry with Remus," she informed him. "I work with him, too. I am well aware of the danger he placed each and every student in because he refused to tell Dumbledore that the Wolfsbane was no longer working for him."

"It's not that," he growled. "Well," he amended, "it's not all of it."

She stared up at him, waiting for him to answer her.

"It's not the fact that he could have attacked another teacher or a student. It's not the fact that he didn't tell Dumbledore about the Wolfsbane." His voice deepened with the anger brewing inside of him. "The fact of the matter is he _already_ attacked someone. He didn't just attack them. He attacked and _bit_ a defenseless child!"

Sarai remained quiet.

"Being attacked by a full grown werewolf is terrifying, Sarai," he whispered. "I still have nightmares about the night Lupin attacked me. I can't imagine the horrors Setus must be facing because Lupin actually _bit_ him."

"You know that Phil and Julie will do all that they can to help him," she murmured. "Philip has proven to you that he is not going to pretend that this never happened like Dumbledore would have done. This trial with the Lupine and Lupina will bring to light all of Remus's crimes. He will have no choice but to atone."

Severus couldn't help but snort with derision. "Lupin won't give a damn."

"He'd better. Do you think that Phil was bluffing when he said that he'd kill him?" She stared up at him with her head tilted slightly to the side as she tried to read the emotion in his black eyes. "He wants to kill him. I think he's wanted to kill Remus for a long time."

"Phil would never kill anyone without due cause."

"And you think he doesn't have due cause? Beloved, he would kill Remus simply because he attacked you when you were sixteen. He'd be justified in doing so. He could kill Remus here and now and no one, not the Lupine and Lupina, not the Queen herself, would dare interfere."

He couldn't hide the shock that glittered in his eyes. Not from her.

"Don't you know that Phil would kill for you, Sev?" she asked. Her voice was incredibly soft, her tone tinged with sadness at the realization that he didn't know that.

"I do." He took her hands in his. "Sarai, I do. He saved me from the poisonous fumes when those three dunderheads caused their potions to explode. I watched him kill those Death Eaters that were trying to attack Harry during the Great Battle."

"No, Sev," she said quietly, but this time just a hint of amusement tinged her voice, "I don't think you do. Yes, he has gone out of his way to protect you and Harry and Draco but I don't think you really understand how much that man loves you. It bothers him, you know, that you were victimized by Dumbledore and the Marauders. I don't think he's forgiven Remus or Sirius, even, for that matter."

"You think he feels guilty because he couldn't help me during my years at Hogwarts? Oh, Sarai," he sighed. "I don't blame him for not being there."

"You're missing the point, beloved," she told him gently. "He is angry on behalf of _you_. Because he loves you."

"But . . . Why?" he asked. "Sarai, dear heart, I know that he loves me," he reassured her, lifting a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb smoothing along the length of her jaw. "Believe me, I do, and I'm glad that he's a part of our family. He's . . ."

"I know," she whispered, turning her head to place a kiss to his palm. "I know."

_He's who I need him to be. An older brother. A father, even._

Severus' eyes darkened and he gently pulled his wife close to his chest, his arms settling comfortably around her slender waist. In a few weeks' time her belly would bulge with the life of his growing son. _Alexander Severus Snape,_ he thought. His heart ached with a long-buried pain but it no longer hurt the way it once did; the Goddess was returning their child to them and, this time, he would be whole and well outlive that of his parents.

He lowered his head, brushing his lips tenderly, teasingly, over his wife's mouth. Desire started to burn inside of him. When was the last time he had had his wife all to himself? At Hogwarts it seemed that they never managed to find a moment alone except for the rare occasion that Harry or Draco or Nesmay decided to take Toria for the evening. Snape Manor was large and insured that Sev and Sarai could share a private moment whenever they so wished. Now he finally had a moment alone and, damn it, he was going to ensure that they both enjoyed it.

"Take a shower with me," he growled, nuzzling against the side of her cheek until she shivered from his stubble tickling her skin.

"All right," she agreed.

When was the last time they had showered together? She wondered. It was long enough that the prospect of bathing with him caused the muscles in her belly to tighten with anticipation.

Holding her hand, Severus led her toward their en suite bathroom and the large shower that stood separate from a whirlpool tub.

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

_He was cold. _

_He was so very cold. _

_And he had been so very cold for so very long. _

_He dreamed of the sun. He dreamed of its warmth. He longed to be warm again. He longed to live again. _

_It was all **his** fault. That ancestor of his. That thrice damned **vampire**. _

**_He_**_ was the reason he was trapped in this prison of ice. **He** was the reason he could not feel the sun's warmth. **He** was the reason he was no longer free. _

_How long had he been trapped here? _

_A century? Two? Longer? He did not know. Time was meaningless to him trapped here in his prison. _

_There was no light. Nothing with which he could use to track the rise and fall of the sun. He was trapped in perpetual darkness. _

_He couldn't even move. _

_And, oh, how he longed to stretch his limbs. How he longed to feel the grass beneath his feet. How he longed to smell the fresh air. How he longed to taste the vampire's blood. _

_Sleep._

_He could feel the beginnings of the spell working on his mind once again. Whenever he started to wake, the spell would force him back to sleep. _

_He didn't want to sleep. Not any longer. _

_He was tired of sleeping. _

_The spell intensified its gentle coaxing. He could not resist. He could feel himself falling. _

_Falling. _

_Fall-_

_Warmth! _

_He could **feel** it._

_Sudden, delicious warmth. _

_More! He wanted – no, needed – more. _

_Just a little more. _

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

"I have only one rule that I expect all of you to respect and obey. If you come across any locked doors, leave them be."

Dudley had found a locked door!

His fingers twisted the knob and, again, he felt that jolt of freezing energy race up the length of his arm.

_What is Philip hiding?_ He wondered.

Dudley was more than willing to admit that Phil and Julie made him extremely uncomfortable. While he knew that the two adults would never hurt him, he couldn't help but feel like a cornered animal in their presence. Some long forgotten instinct kept reminding him that these two creatures that looked so remarkably human were apex predators and that _he_ was their preferred prey. He couldn't shake it. It annoyed him that Harry and Draco seemed oblivious to their aunt and uncle's effect on other people. His Uncle Severus even seemed to enjoy the older man's company.

He fiddled with knob again. Nothing happened.

_I really shouldn't be doing this,_ he thought to himself. Didn't Philip say that he had a way of knowing whether or not someone was playing around his locked rooms? Could that be what the jolt was? An electrical shock to warn him away?

If it was a simple electrical shot, that meant that all he had to do was find the breaker for this part of the manor and switch it off. That would cut the power to the door.

But what if it wasn't electricity? What if it was magic?

_Can't be._ He dismissed the thought. Sirius had told him that vampires didn't have magic.

So it had to be electricity.

"Dudley?"

Dudley jolted (but the door hadn't shocked him a third time) and spun around.

"H-harry!" he stammered. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," his cousin retorted.

Dudley leaned toward Harry.

"Do you promise not to tell your uncle?"

Harry frowned. "What's going on?"

"Just promise."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I promise. Now will you tell me?"

His cousin grinned. "I found a locked door."

Harry blinked. He blinked again.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "You what?"

"I found a locked door. Y'know, the one your uncle warned us away from?"

Harry's eyes widened and then he grinned. "No way!"

"Yes way!" Dudley crowed. "C'mon." He grabbed Harry's shoulders and pressed him against the door. "Maybe you can figure out a way to open it. I think we have to turn the breaker off to stop the flow of electricity. Did you feel that jolt too?"

Harry's hand curled around the knob and he, too, felt a jolt of freezing energy shoot up his arm.

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

_Warmth! _

_He could **feel** it. _

_But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. _

_He was in a prison of ice. It would take more than a simple flame to free him. Already, the magic of the spell was weaving its work back and forth across his mind. It would be so easy to sleep. Just sleep and nothing would matter anymore. _

_No! _

_He wanted to wake up._

_He wanted to be free. _

_He wanted revenge. _

_Heat. He wanted more heat. _

_And he howled silently when the warmth retreated just as quickly as it had come. _

_Come back! Come back! _

_And the blessed heat returned. _

_More. He needed more. He wasn't strong enough. Not yet. _

_Help me._

_Help me! _

**_HELP ME!_**

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

"Whoa." Harry jumped back. He glanced at his cousin. "Did you hear that, Dud?"

"Sounded like someone calling for help," the other boy murmured. His eyes were wide and the blood had drained from his face, leaving him pale. "You don't think your uncle has someone alive in there, do you?"

Harry shook his head in confusion. "I don't think so. Uncle Phil's never said anything and, from what I know, he goes into the city to hunt."

"But I clearly heard someone crying for help."

"Me too."

"What do you reckon we should do?"

Harry didn't even need to think about it. He would ask his uncle about it later. "We help them."

"How?"

He glanced at the door, his hand still gripping the knob, as he thought it over.

"Could it be magic?" Dudley asked.

"Could be," he murmured. He withdrew his wand. "_Alohomora_."

Nothing happened.

He tried every spell that he knew and still nothing happened.

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

_No, no, no, no, no! _

_You fools! _

_Magic wouldn't work. Magic couldn't work. Not against a vampire's blood wards. Not against **this** vampire's blood wards. _

_Why? _

_Why were they doing this to him? _

_He wanted to sob. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rage. He didn't deserve eternal imprisonment! _

_They were going to leave. _

_They were going to leave and he would lose himself to the ice again. _

_No! He wouldn't let that happen. _

_They didn't know how to open his prison. _

_He could help them. He could show them. _

_Blood! The answer was blood. **That** vampire's blood. Or its mate's blood. _

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

"Hey Harry," Dudley spoke slowly as a thought that wasn't entirely his own entered his mind.

"Yeah, Dud?"

"Do you think this would work?" He reached inside his pocket and removed a small vial containing a bright red liquid.

Harry stared at him, open-mouthed. "Where'd you get that?"

"Sirius." He shrugged.

"How'd he manage that?" Harry muttered. "Never mind. Whose is it?"

"I think it's your aunt's."

Harry reached for the small vial, his eyes glued to the red liquid swirling gently inside the clear bottle. His father would sell his eyeteeth for even a quarter of this amount. Vampire blood was incredibly rare, very hard to come by and could cost a person a month's wages. His aunt and uncle would be furious if they found out that Sirius had collected her blood without her permission.

"I dunno, Dudley," he murmured. "Maybe we shouldn't do this after all."

Dudley grabbed the potion vial from his hand. You are such a scaredy cat. Here. I'll do it."

Not knowing exactly where the idea came from, he uncorked the vial, and tipped it over the handle until several droplets of blood coated the gold metal. The knob glowed a brilliant shade of blue for a moment and then faded to nothing; as it did so, it swung open.

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

_Free at last! _

_I am free._

For the first time in nearly 600 years, Silas Snape was free of his prison. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes against the bright light flooding through the open doorway. He saw two young men standing just outside his prison, staring at him with mirrored expressions of awe and horror. The taller one was obviously of his blood. Silas offered him a formal bow.

"I thank you for freeing me, Lord Snape," he purred. "I am indebted to you."

The shorter, stockier man gaped at his companion.

"Might you be so kind as to tell me the year, good sir, and where I might find one Philip Snape?"

The boy stared at him for several moments.

Silas grew impatient.

"Answer me, boy!" he snapped.

"I-it's 1998," he stammered. "And Uncle Phil is in his room."

Silas went still. _1998? Well. This is news to me indeed._

Then—

"Did you call him Uncle Phil?"

He nodded.

And Silas couldn't help his smile.

Ignoring the two youngsters, Silas stepped out of his prison and he nearly groaned at the soft carpet beneath his feet. The manor was the same as it was. Only the people living here were different.

_We'll see about that,_ he thought. _I'm coming for you Your Majesty._

**Author's note: **

A tremendous thank you to everyone that has taken the time to review. Your kind words (and even constructive criticism) are an inspiration.

Please be aware that I am a college student and that this story will not be my main focus. I have other priorities and my program is very demanding. I will try and update once a month (but I make no promises).

This chapter did not come out the way that I imagined but I'm happy with it. I hope you enjoy it and will forgive me for the fact that it is a few thousand words short.

**Next:** Silas Snape sets about getting his revenge. Will Phil survive or is this the end of our lovely violet-eyed vampire?


	9. Seeds of Darkness

**Author's notes:** I sincerely apologize for the delay in updating. My program at college is very demanding and leaves very little time for me to actually sit down write. Finally, with all of my major projects completed and exams out of the way, I had some time to sit down and write.

Please note that there will be some discrepancies between this chapter and previous ones as I am in the process of revising them. (Chapter 1 is complete and has been posted.)

I hope you enjoy the chapter and that it was worth the wait.

Chapter 9: Seeds of Darkness

_Saturday, July 3rd, 1998_

_ 4:00 a.m._

Silas prowled through Snape Manor, his bare feet making hardly a sound as he seemed to float, not walk, down the darkened hallway.

No moon in the sky meant that there was very little natural light for him to see by. He did not need it. He may not be a vampire, able to see perfectly in the dark regardless of the amount of light, but the magic bestowed upon him from his masters allowed him to navigate the darkened hallway just fine.

He could feel the hum of energy in the air around him; it sent goose bumps rippling along the length of his arms and caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end. This energy – for he did not know anything at all about electricity or the jump in technology over the last century – did not quite taste the same as that of magic. It was constant, never ending, unlike magic, which flowed and shifted like a tide depending on the strength of the individual wizard or witch's magical core.

He hungered for more.

It was not physical hunger; he no longer needed nourishment.

He was not a vampire. He silently thanked his masters for that one because, had he been Born or Blooded, that damned ancestor of his would have beheaded him without hesitation.

His nostrils flared as he tried to discern the unique scents that filled the manor but his senses would never compare to that of his alternate form. And, _oh_, how he missed his bestial form. Even an ancient master vampire like his ancestor would fear _him_.

But he couldn't shift forms.

That blasted ancestor of his had bound him to his mortal form before imprisoning him.

He stared down at the dark blue tattoos that swirled in a pattern around both of his wrists, shackles that prevented him from shifting between forms _or_ summoning his masters.

He knew that one of his masters would easily be able to break the spell binding him to the mortal plain. He just needed to find a way to weaken the vampire.

_But how?_ He thought.

He knew that he could not defeat the man without the aid of his masters or his beast form.

**_Everyone_**_ has a weakness,_ he all but growled with the thought. _It's just a matter of finding out what **his** is._

Silas lifted a hand and unconsciously rubbed the mark upon his throat.

Instead of killing him as Silas had expected him to do, his ancestor had locked him away in a room that had become his cell. The pain from the bite in his neck prevented him from moving much and the wound continued to bleed freely. Believing that he lay dying, he called to his masters for help. The blood should have been enough to summon them to his side immediately let alone the fact that he had been serving them faithfully for many years. They did not come. He realized distantly that it was not because he had failed in contacting them; it was because that thrice damned ancestor of his had known to line the room he was in with salt and to destroy any object that was not of this world.

He wondered briefly if his ancestor would have kept any of the otherworldly objects he would have come across. If he could find something, anything, even an old relic, he would be able to summon his masters. True, they would be unable to acquire a physical body in the mortal realms but they would be able to guide him, to instruct him on how he could defeat his ancestor.

He paused when movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning swiftly in that direction, he caught sight of his reflection in a mirror; he stared at his reflection for several long moments without making a sound. He looked exactly the same as he had on the night that his ancestor had bound and imprisoned him.

_How is this possible?_ He thought, as he leaned forward to touch the face reflected back at him. _How long was I held captive?_

He did not know. He could not remember. He could vaguely remember the first few hours of his imprisonment before the magic that bound him to his cell forced him to sleep. Time had become meaningless to him. He drifted in and out of reality for who knew how long until a voice broke through the icy numbness of his prison and reminded him that he had been imprisoned by a monster far more evil than he himself could ever hope to be.

He pulled away from the mirror when the soft sound of whispering voices caught his attention. His curiosity piqued, he walked in the direction where he could hear them talking.

The door was slightly ajar, allowing a shallow beam of golden light to flood into the hallway, disrupting the ambient darkness.

_Could it be my ancestor?_ He wondered. Edging closer, holding his breath, Silas carefully peered inside the room and immediately stiffened when he caught sight of the man pacing back and forth before an unlit hearth. His heart hammering in his throat, Silas quickly realized that this man could not be his vampire ancestor – for one thing, a vampire's hearing was far more acute than any human could ever be and, for another, if it _had_ been him, Philip would have torn his throat out without hesitation. No, looking more closely at the man, he could not be Philip Snape; the only resemblance they shared was the colour of their hair. This man's features were softer, less aristocratic, than Philip's but he was clearly of noble birth.

A second man sat tensely upon a soft green settee, the rich mahogany giving it a masculine feel rather than a feminine one, with his back to the door.

"Sirius, what am I going to do?" he asked the other man anxiously.

Sirius paused in his pacing to swing his head over his shoulder to stare at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"The Lupine and Lupina will convict me for sure when they hear what Philip has to say," Remus explained. "How can I defend myself in court when everything he says will be the truth? I _did_ neglect to inform Dumbledore and the rest of Hogwarts' staff about the Wolfsbane Potion. I _did _attack his mate and children unprovoked. I _did_ bite that little boy. And I _did_ bite Julie."

Sirius lifted a hand and wiped his face, his fingers pausing to stroke over his chin thoughtfully; he kept his back to his friend in order to hide his expression from him.

His friend's words conjured images in his head of that terrible moment where Moony sank his fangs into the lion cub's vulnerable belly. Those feline mewls of agony echoed in the back of his head until the muscles in his stomach knotted with an emotion other than disgust. That emotion solidified when his mind flashed to the memory of Moony clamping his jaws around Julie's wing and nearly tearing the limb from her back in a spray of blood. He closed his eyes, exhaling softly through his lips, as he remembered experiencing that emotion once before, many years ago, on the night that Moony had very nearly killed Severus in their Sixth year at Hogwarts.

He did not regret pulling the prank on Severus – after all, nothing had happened – and he did not regret opening the door to Remus' bedroom the other night during the full moon. It had served Severus right for sneaking around and trying to find out just what, exactly, he and his friends were up to. It served Phil right that Siren and Setus and Julie had been attacked when they should have been safely inside the manor.

_But, what if,_ a tiny voice sounding very much like a certain violet-eyed vampire whispered in his mind, _what if it had been Lyra he'd attacked? Or Dudley? Or Petunia?_

_That would never happen!_ He thought angrily to himself. _They know better than to go anywhere near Remus's rooms during the full moon._

However, while he considered Moony's attack on Phil's family justified, the others would never agree with him. They worshipped the vampire like the Death Eaters once worshipped Voldemort. The Dark Lord would often allow his followers to torture their victims for hours, sometimes days, on end before finally killing them. Sirius didn't know Philip that well but he highly suspected that he _enjoyed_ killing his prey in very much the same way that Voldemort did. _The only difference between the two of them,_ Sirius thought coldly, _is that I've seen the remnants of Voldemort's victims. I know what he's capable of. Philip, on the other hand, plays with his cards close to his chest. _

He hated him. He hated him far more than he had ever hated his parents, Severus Snape _or_ Voldemort.

"Sirius?"

Sirius, startled from his thoughts, shook his head and turned to face Remus. He asked, "What is it?"

"I don't want to go to trial," Remus whispered, with just a hint of an animal's whine in the back of his throat. "I've never been to court before, not even when I attacked Severus in our Sixth year and I thought the Ministry would kill me within the hour. I don't know much about our laws but I _do_ know that the evidence is stacked against me. I know what's going to happen. They're going to convict me and I'm going to die before the summer's end."

"Oh, stop your whining and grow a pair, would you, Moony?" Sirius snapped. "You're not going to die," he continued harshly. "Trust me, Moony; if Philip wanted you dead, you would be dead."

"That's very reassuring, Sirius," Remus answered with a bit of a growl in his voice.

"I'm on your side, Remus," he snapped, "but don't take me for a fool. Philip is dangerous. I may not believe that he's over a thousand years old, but he declared himself as an ally of the Summer Queen. I don't know about you, but she is one woman I _do not_ want to offend. We shall have to go about this another way."

Sirius watched Remus lower his head submissively and stare down at his hands. "Then there's no hope for me," he whispered. "I might as well go and find Philip right now and bare my throat to him."

"Perhaps," Silas drawled, stepping forward, "I can be of some assistance in that regard."

"Who are you?" Remus growled. His eyes, ordinarily a warm shade of brown, had shifted to bright wolf gold.

"My name is Silas Snape," he answered with a mocking bow. "From what I managed to overhear the two of you saying, it seems that we share a common goal. Perhaps we can aid each other."

"Oh?" Sirius asked with a raised eyebrow. "How do you propose we do such a thing, might I ask? It's not like we can waltz up to the vampire and stake him in the heart. We might have a shot if we can find a way to remove that pendant from around his neck and let the sun burn him to ashes."

Silas strode forward, pointedly ignoring the other two, and held out a hand to the fire, watching with glee as flames leapt to life and sat down on a beige leather armchair. He crossed one leg at the knee, drumming his fingers across his ankle thoughtfully.

"You're thinking far too simply," he said at last. "What is the point of killing him? If we kill him, he is dead. No," Silas growled, gazing darkly into the flames of the fire, "I want him to suffer as I have suffered. I want him to know what it feels like to lose everything that he holds dear."

"And how are we going to do that?" Remus asked.

"We must find his weakness, of course," Silas stated simply. "Once we have found his weakness, we will exploit it and then his Royal Highness will be at our mercy."

Sirius stiffened upon hearing those two significant words. _It can't be true,_ he thought, _it just can't be. _

_But . . ._ he added slowly, _what if it **is**? _

Remus huffed with amusement. "You expect me to believe that Philip Snape is royalty?" He couldn't help the smile that curled his lips upwards and made his expression somewhat predatory due to his wolf eyes. "Are you taking the mickey?"

"What do you know about vampires, Wolf?" Silas snapped back at him. "You, a werewolf, who is too cowardly to face the judgement of his own people? Who knows _nothing_ about his own people?"

Remus bristled. This was the second time in as many days that someone had called him cowardly.

"Do you have proof of what you say?" Sirius demanded, interrupting before Remus could lose control of his temper.

"I don't," Silas answered calmly. "But my masters do."

"Your masters?"

"I believe they are known as the Dark Ones in this realm."

Sirius' vision swam threateningly and his cheeks cooled as the blood drained from his face. "T-the Dark Ones?" he stammered.

"Ah," Silas purred. "So you've heard of them, have you, then?"

"Oh, yes," Sirius breathed. "I've heard of them."

Legend claimed that, a very long time ago, five witches and wizards, who served the Devil himself, managed to discover the location of the very first unicorn. They could not capture the elusive creature and so they prayed to their dark god for assistance; hearing their pleas, he bequeathed to them a silver chain that would bind any immortal being to a mortal form. The chain transformed the unicorn into a beautiful woman with silvery hair and a red starburst in the center of her forehead to indicate where her horn used to be. Human, weak and unable to defend herself, the unicorn begged her captors to release her – not for her own self but for the foal she carried inside of her. Ignoring her cries, they dragged her, begging and pleading and sobbing, back to their stately manor where they proceeded with the ritual.

Laying her flat in the center of the pentagram, the silver chain wrapped around her neck, ankles and wrists, one of the wizards drew forward, bearing a blade, cut from the finest jade, and drew slender strokes across her body. The unicorn's blood pooled the length and breadth of the pentagram, until the entire star's shape was filled with glistening red blood, summoning the Devil and drawing the attention of several other gods as well.

The Devil appeared before them, a dark haired, scarlet-eyed demon in human form, he alone able to enter the mortal plane because of their ritual. He praised his followers and commanded each of them to drink of the blood that stained the floor a brilliant shade of red. They obeyed him, the unicorn's blood staining the tips of their fingers and the corners of their mouths a bright crimson. As the blood scalded their tongues, the dark god commanded them to grate her horn into a fine silver powder which he then sprinkled over their heads. Symbols of darkness written in a demonic script appeared in the very center of their foreheads and immediately revealed their positions of power within the Devil's ranks.

One young goddess, for she was only a few millennia old, wept at the sight of such innocence destroyed for such selfish reasons. The law that bound every deity from interfering in mortal affairs prevented her from directly saving the dying unicorn but, because these five men and woman had also _broken_ the law, she could justly punish them. As her tears fell from her cheeks and dripped on to the stone cold floor and mingled with the unicorn's blood, no one expected the vibrant red liquid to turn to molten silver; the goddess' tears now blessed the unicorn and cursed anyone that dared to drink its blood to a cursed life.

The blood that lingered on the tongues of the Devil's five generals burned until they all fell to the ground, writhing, their human bodies twisting and distorting into something vastly different.

During this process, while they were vulnerable, the goddess flung them from the mortal world and into the Shadow Realms where they remained locked away to this very day.

Sirius remembered his mother telling him about the Shadow Realms being a dark reflection of the Faerie Realms. He had hardly paid any attention to the lessons about that Realm and, now, he wished that he had.

"What exactly are you proposing we do?" he demanded.

"When I am able to contact my masters, they will free me from the bonds with which my damned ancestor has bound me," Silas said. He held up his wrists to show the two of them the dark blue tattoos that swirled around his wrists and forearms. "In the meantime, I would ask that the two of you try and discover my ancestor's weakness. Covertly," he added harshly. "That vampire is old and canny and if he even suspects that guests in his own home are working against him, he will work quickly to protect the thing most precious to him. We _cannot_ allow that to happen."

"What do you plan to do with her?"

"Her?" Silas repeated. Then his dark blue eyes widened with comprehension and his chest rumbled with soft, malicious laughter that sent chills racing down the back of Sirius' spine. "He has a mate, now, has he?"

"Yes," he murmured.

"And is _she_ his weakness?" Silas asked curiously, stroking his chin, his pupils rapidly expanding until the blue of his irises were just thin rings of colour at the very corners of his eyes. "Or is it someone … some_thing_ … else?"

"She is his weakness. Phil is damned protective of those he considers his family but she is his _ultimate_ weakness which leads me back to my original question. What do you plan to do with her?"

Silas arched an eyebrow at Sirius but he answered him readily enough. "With your help, I plan to hand her over to my masters as a gift to show them that, in spite of being imprisoned for God knows how long, my loyalty to them remains as strong as it has always been."

Remus glanced anxiously over at Sirius.

"And what will your masters do with her once they have her?"

"What do you think they will do to her?" Silas asked him quietly. "They will imprison her. They will torture her. They may use her for breeding. They may even hand her over to the Devil himself."

"Sirius," Remus hissed. "We _can't._"

Sirius stared harshly back at Remus.

"What do you mean 'we can't'?" he demanded. "Of course we can."

"No, Sirius," Remus said, shaking his head, "we can't. If we allow Silas to kidnap her and hand her over to his masters – the Dark Ones – we'll be signing her death warrant."

"She is hardly innocent, Remus," Sirius reminded him caustically. "She's a vampire, just like Philip. She kills people and drinks their blood, just like Philip. How many people do you think she kills in a year? A hundred years? Five _hundred_ years? That's a lot of people, Moony," he added gently. "Even if they only kill one person a month (which I doubt), that's still a substantial amount of bodies over the year and not even Voldemort achieved such a feat when he was in power."

"And how many people do you think _they_ have killed?" the werewolf asked scornfully. "I remember the old legend just like you do, Sirius. Silas said it himself that they would hand her over to the Devil. Phil and Julie might kill an awful lot of people but does that mean she deserves to become the Devil's victim?"

"If it means saving your life, Moony, I would hand her over to the Devil myself. Don't you see," Sirius growled, "using Julie as leverage is the only way to ensure Philip's co-operation."

"So you're going to blackmail him, is that it?" Remus demanded. "You're going to force his obedience by threatening to harm his _mate?_"

"Remus," Sirius said fiercely, striding over to stand directly in front of his friend and glare down at him, "I don't give a damn about Philip or Julie or their twins. As far as I'm concerned, the world would be a better place if the whole lot of them burnt to ashes with the morning sunrise. All I care about is my family, Harry and _you._"

Remus bowed his head, unable to bear Sirius' gaze any longer.

"How interesting," Silas murmured. "You care more for a lone wolf than you do for a mother of young children. You surprise me, Wizard."

"Remus isn't a threat," Sirius snapped. "Phil and Julie are."

Silas tilted his head to the side, a crooked smile, more malicious than benign, curving his lips. "Philip is, indeed, a mighty threat," he said. "You'd do well to remember that, Wizard."

"Why do _you_ want to punish Philip?" Sirius asked him curiously. "You never mentioned."

"Didn't I? Funny, it must have slipped my mind," Silas murmured. "Philip discovered that I was trying to summon my masters to the mortal plain and he quickly prevented that from happening by attacking me – unprovoked, I might add – and imprisoning me."

"When was this?"

"I believe the year was 1400," Silas said, pausing thoughtfully for a moment or two. Sirius and Remus stared at him with wide eyes. "What?"

"Silas…" Sirius glanced at Remus and then quickly away. "That was nearly 600 years ago. It's July of 1998."

"Hm." Silas stroked his chin. "Well, the spell Philip used to imprison me must have somehow prevented me from aging."

"Where, exactly, were you imprisoned?"

"Here, of course," Silas answered.

"Here?" Sirius demanded. "Here as in Snape Manor?"

Silas inclined his head.

_That tears it,_ he thought, his hands clenching into angry fists.

"Tell me what your plan is," Sirius demanded, ignoring the sound of Remus' drawn breath. "Tell me and I'll help you capture Philip's ultimate weakness."

Silas smiled.

**Page Break - - - Page Break**

_Faerie Realms_

_The Winter Queen's palace_

The Winter Queen stared down at the young man that knelt before her with a gentle sneer of disdain upon her exquisitely exotic features. Her eyes, the pale blue colour of a glacier and just as cold, flickered to the dark blue symbols that swirled around the man's wrists. She did not recognize the pattern as belonging to that of any Fae that she knew nor did she see anything to indicate that one of her mortal followers may have bound him. She stood up with a soft rustle of skirts and gracefully strode down her pavilion to stand in front of him; her lips twisted with amusement when the man pressed his forehead to the stone floor in a further show of respect.

"Who are you," she asked, her voice soft and whispering, like an early winter snowfall, "that you would dare to enter my realm and seek out my presence?"

"I am but a humble man, Your Majesty," he replied without raising his head from the ground. "I seek nothing from you that you would not freely give."

The Queen's dark brows rose with her mounting curiosity.

"Oh," she purred. "You are very clever with your words, Silver Tongue, but you have not answered my question and my patience is growing thin. Now," she commanded, a cold chill beginning to fill the room, "tell me why you are here."

"I have heard tell, oh beautiful Queen, that you are capable of summoning my masters," he murmured.

The Queen turned, her blue skirts swirling around her legs, before she marched up the steps and sat upon her throne once again. She gestured with her hand, her long, slender fingers curling over the rims of her throne. "The Dark Ones," she whispered. Then, her voice gathering strength, she demanded, "The Dark Ones are your masters?"

"Yes, my Queen."

The Queen could not stop a subtle shiver from rolling down the back of her spine; thankfully, no one saw her moment of weakness.

"Impossible," she hissed.

"I assure you, oh mighty Queen, that it _is_ possible."

He never raised his head from the ground, he never dared to look upon her with his own eyes and he kept his voice respectful. Her slender fingers drummed across the armrest of her throne. He did not fear her and she reluctantly admitted to admiring him for that; her own subjects cowered before her in terror and with very good reason: she was not the gentlest or kindest of sovereigns. She ruled her frozen realm with a cold heart that lacked mercy or compassion; indeed, she had shown none even to her own son, Jarillion, who had committed the sin of kidnapping Queen Titania's granddaughter. A pang of agony speared her heart for the briefest of instances before she managed to push the thought of her beloved child to the back of her mind.

The Dark Ones were another matter entirely.

"Why?" she asked.

"Your Majesty?" He raised his head for but a moment, his dark blue eyes meeting hers for the barest of seconds, before bowing once more.

"Why do you wish me to summon your masters?"

"I was unjustly imprisoned and bound to my human form before I could finish the ritual that would summon them to the mortal plain, Your Highness," he explained. "I seek justice against the one that bound me."

"And who is this person?"

"His name is Philip Snape, Your Majesty. He is—"

"A vampire," the Winter Queen murmured, her blue eyes darkening with emotion. "Yes, I know."

"He is not just any vampire, Your Majesty," Silas corrected her gently. "He is—"

"I know who he is!" she snapped. "He is an ally of my sister Titania, the Summer Queen's, court. He is Godfather to her former Captain of the Queen's Blades, Sarai Valinek-Snape's daughter, Victoria. He is Severus and Harry Snape's ancestor. He is also—"

The doors to the throne room opened to admit an exceptionally beautiful young woman with dark hair that fell to her waist in gentle curves and eyes the colour of storm clouds.

"What is the meaning of this?" the Queen demanded, rising from her throne. "My dear, I have warned you never to interrupt me unless absolutely necessary!"

"Apologies, Your Majesty," the woman replied with a respectful curtsy. "When the guards informed me of your guest I knew that I simply had to meet him for myself."

The Winter Queen stared down contemptuously at the young woman. She wanted to punish her for daring to disobey her but she did not belong to her court.

"And?" the Queen asked.

The beautiful young woman met the Queen's gaze without flinching. "Your Majesty, if he is who he says he is, he may prove to be a valuable ally," she murmured, her voice soft and melodious, high-pitched and lovely to the ear.

"Do you think I haven't thought of that, you silly girl?" she snapped.

The other woman's eyes shifted to a bloody crimson and her lips curled back to reveal her fangs.

"Do not bare your teeth at me, child," the Queen admonished her sternly.

The young vampiress pressed her lips together.

"Now," the Queen said. "Before we were so rudely interrupted" – she glared pointedly at the other woman – "we were discussing Lord Philip Snape."

"My Queen, I beg of you, summon my masters so that they may free me from my bonds and that I can justly punish the vampire!" Silas implored her.

The Queen glanced over at the young vampiress.

"Calm yourself," the Queen murmured. "We have a plan."

And she told him what it was.

**Author's notes: **It's short! I know it's short but I figured that you all deserved an update – even a short chapter like this (although it's nearly 5000 words long) – after being so patient with me.

I hope it was worth it. Let me know!

I wish you all a wonderful Merry Christmas.


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